Tracking Device

I have a friend and fellow blogger who has a cell phone but keeps it turned off when he isn’t using it. He calls it his “tracking device.” He means his location can be tracked if his phone is turned on. He feels that is an invasion of privacy, and of course it is to some extent. There is a trade-off between privacy and services. That’s reality.

Turning off your phone might protect you from Google but the government can still track you. Specifically, the NSA (National Security Agency) can track you when your phone is off. Of course, they would need a reason. They don’t track everyone with a cell phone, but they’ve tracked thousands of terrorists in Iraq. So how do they do this?

Sooner or later, you will turn on your phone to make a call. At that point, the NSA sends a piece of software to your phone called a Trojan. That software is designed so that it continues to run when the phone is “off.” It periodically transmits your location, which it can compute in a number of ways. So you think your phone is completely off, but a little part of it is still running and sending location data. Very clever.

If you really don’t want to be tracked, remove your phone’s battery when you’re not using it. Or just get rid of your cell phone and pretend it’s 1973.

Government

My city sent me a letter from the Registrar. The letter contained a form to request a mail-in ballot. The letter encouraged me to fill out the form to request a ballot so I can mail them my vote in November to avoid Covid-19. That sounded good to me, so I filled out the form and tried to put it into the postage-paid return envelope the city had furnished. That’s when I discovered the envelope was one inch shorter than the form it was intended to hold.

I folded each end of the form by 1/2 inch to shorten the form by a total of one inch. Then I inserted it into the envelope. All I had to do was seal the envelope closed. But when I wet the glue strip on the envelope flap and folded it onto the back of the envelope, it wouldn’t stick. The glue strip was completely ineffective. But I found some Scotch tape and used that to hold the envelope closed.

These are minor annoyances, but it diminishes my confidence in the city’s ability to count votes if they can’t even provide an envelope long enough to hold the form they want me to mail to them. Not to mention the annoying faux-glue strip. How hard are these things to do? Do the people at City Hall even give a damn about competence? It makes me wonder.

A few years ago, a new line item appeared on my bi-monthly utility bill. It was $4.50 and the item said simply “CART”. It puzzled me, but who knows the mysteries involved in city government, so I accepted it. But it showed up on bill after bill, and I became curious. So I called City Hall and talked to a woman in the billing department and I asked her about the mysterious $4.50 CART charge. The conversation went like this:

Me: “What is this $4.50 charge labeled CART on my utility bill?”

Her: “That’s for the extra refuse cart that you have.”

Me: “I don’t have an extra refuse cart. I only have one cart.”

Her: “Our records indicate you have two carts.”

Me: “Your records are wrong. I have one cart, and I want a refund of those extra payments I made.”

Her: “I can correct the statement to show you have just one refuse cart, but I can’t refund the money that you overpaid.”

Me: “Why not?”

Her: “You didn’t complain until now, so we can’t refund the amount that you overpaid in the past.”

I hung up the phone and put on my Naval Special Warfare Command cap and I drove to City Hall and I went to the Utilities department. I found the woman who told me I couldn’t get a refund. It was easy to tell me “no refund” on the phone, but telling me “no refund” when I’m standing three feet away was a different matter.

Me: “So you’re saying that if your bank mistakenly credits your account with too much money, you can keep the money? Really? Is that how the law works?”

I got my refund. It didn’t take long at all. But bureaucrats will try to bluff you if they can. Because they don’t want to do the right thing, they want to do the easy thing, and the easy thing is to do nothing.

I could go on with similar stories, but I bet everyone reading this has their own stories about government.

Cops

Cops have a tough job. They’re tasked with catching dangerous criminals as well as attempting to prevent crimes. When they see something suspicious, they investigate. They stop and ask questions.

I’ve seen video of so-called killer cops. I agree that sometimes in the heat of the moment, while in a violent confrontation, they over-react. They’re just humans trying to do a difficult job.

And I’ve no doubt that a few cops are bullies and just want a chance to bully some innocent person.

But having said those things, I have to say I’ve seen many videos where cops shoot a Black man and in virtually every video, the man who got shot brought it upon himself in some way. The “victim” refused to cooperate with the police, sometimes fighting with the police, seizing the cop’s weapon, shooting it at the cop, running away, etc. If the “victim” had cooperated with the officers, all would have gone smoothly and no one would have been shot. At most, the “victim” would have spent a night in jail, unless there were outstanding warrants on him and he was already a wanted man.

When these things happen today, the cops usually get fired and may be charged with murder. And the “victim” becomes a hero. I put the word victim in quotes because he isn’t a typical victim. He wasn’t hit by a hurricane. He wasn’t swept away by a flood. He made himself a victim by being uncooperative and/or belligerent with the authorities who are tasked with keeping us safe.

I’m White, but I know a number of Black people who are not afraid of the police. They know what to do when a cop asks questions: simply answer the questions. Don’t make sudden moves. Don’t do unexpected things. The cop isn’t psychic. If you suddenly reach inside your car, the cop doesn’t know for sure what you’re doing. Maybe you’re reaching for a weapon. When interacting with police, tell the cop what you’re going to do.

“My wallet is in my back pocket, I’m going to get it out now.”

“My registration is in this center console. I’m going to open it now.”

If it’s nighttime, give the cop time to point his flashlight at what you’re doing. Let him know what’s going on. Don’t be difficult.

These Black men did not have to die. The cops may have been at fault to a degree, but if, at the end of the day, you’re dead, then does it matter to you that the cops over-reacted? No it doesn’t, because you’re dead. Don’t give the cops a reason to over-react.

I’m trying hard to not blame the victims here. But the truth is that sometimes the victim does bear part of the responsibility for what happens to him. We don’t live in a sci-fi world with artificially intelligent robots policing us. We have humans with families they want to go home to, and they aren’t psychic; they can’t read our minds. So talk and answer questions. If the cop wants to take you in, go with him. Be a responsible person. Take responsibility for your actions. Do the right thing and let events work themselves out. Fighting the cops is a lose-lose situation. You either lose now or lose later. Be smarter than that.

Lastly, for those who insist this is all a racial thing, you should know that cops kill Whites twice as often as Blacks.

Racism

My dad was born in Alabama in 1922. He was a racist. I never blamed him for being a racist because that was the culture he grew up in and lived in for his childhood and teenage years and many of his adult years. No one at that time thought of themselves as being racist. They merely lived in the world in which they found themselves. They conformed. If they did not conform, they would have been ostracized by friends and family.

But my dad was never a hater. He didn’t hate Black people. He merely thought White people were superior in certain ways. He worked with Black co-workers. He visited their homes and knew their families. Sometimes he took me with him (I was a teenager then) when he visited the home of a Black acquaintance.

I graduated college and was working as an electrical engineer when, on a certain weekend, I went home to visit my parents. It was a Saturday morning when my father said, “Grab your volt-meter. We have an air-conditioner to fix.”

My father was an air-conditioning and refrigeration mechanic. Some of his co-workers were Black. One of those men was a deacon at an all-Black church. The church was situated on a lonely country road. The Black church deacon had told my dad that his church’s air-conditioning system had quit working. The church did not have enough money to have the a/c repaired. It was the middle of a hot summer, and my dad thought about all those Black church-goers sweating in that stifling hot church every Sunday morning, and he knew that he had to do something to help. So when I came to visit, he decided that he, an air-conditioning mechanic, and I, an engineer, would be able to get that church’s a/c working again.

We arrived at the church and got to work. No one else was there. In a couple of hours we had the a/c repaired and working, and we left. Dad never asked for nor would he have accepted any money—the job was pro bono. My dad did it because at heart he was a good guy. He was still a racist, he still thought White people were superior in certain ways. That was his upbringing and it was ingrained into him until the day he died. But he was never a hater. I think that is a distinction that is worth remembering.

There are a lot of racists and I’m sure some of them are Black, and some are Asian, and some are White. But being a racist—believing that your race is better is some ways than other races—does not mean you hate other races. It doesn’t mean that you wish people of other races harm. It doesn’t mean you would treat them unfairly. We may not be able to change a person’s thinking, but we may be able to change a person’s behavior—if that person is a decent and fair-minded person at heart. And I think, and I hope, that most people are decent and fair-minded at heart. Even racists.

Welcome to the Real World

I went to Food Lion today to pick up a few essentials. A few bottles of soda, potato chips, peanut butter and baloney (for peanut butter and baloney sandwiches, of course), and bagged salad mix to make it all healthy. At the checkout I was greeted by a friendly young lady and I returned her greeting. For some reason, she felt compelled to tell me she was returning to high school next week. I said, “That’s nice—video school or real school?”

Her: “Real school.”

Me: “I wonder how long that’s going to last?”

She had no response.

Me: “Probably until the death rate hits thirty percent.”

She stopped what she was doing and looked at me with a deer-in-the-headlights look in her eyes.

Me: “Hey, I’m kidding. I doubt that more than ten percent of you will die.”

Her eyes blinked and she began robotically bagging my groceries.

I paid, she handed me the receipt, I thanked her and wished her good luck in school, and I walked out. Sometimes I feel compelled to mess with someone’s head. I don’t know why, but to me it feels like I’m telling them, “Welcome to the real world.”

Juice Diet

It’s Tuesday Morning, 3AM. I’ve been to bed but couldn’t sleep. So I got up and now I’m having a couple shots of vodka in the hope it will let me sleep. And I’ve got the TV on. And I’m typing on my computer. The lights are off.

I ate nothing yesterday, despite my intention to eat. Never got hungry. The day before, I ate one chili dog. Oddly, despite my lack of eating I do not lose weight, which has saved me a lot of money on grocery purchases. Going without food is called “fasting.”

The Mayo Clinic says:

Regular fasting can decrease your low-density lipoprotein, or "bad," cholesterol. It's also thought that fasting may improve the way your body metabolizes sugar. This can reduce your risk of gaining weight and developing diabetes, which are both risk factors for heart disease.

On the other hand, webmd.com says:

But fasting for long periods of time is bad for you. Your body needs vitamins, minerals, and other nutrients from food to stay healthy. If you don't get enough, you can have symptoms such as fatigue, dizziness, constipation, dehydration, and not being able to tolerate cold temperatures.

So it appears the best way to fast is a “juice diet.” This is also called a juice fast, juice detox, or juice cleanse. It involves drinking the juice of fruits and vegetables, which gives you vitamins and minerals but no protein or fat. Or, I suppose you could drink plenty of water with a vitamin/mineral supplement, although I’m sure real plant juice is more nutritious.

I think I may go with option 2. Water and a pill has to be more nutritious than a chili dog. Although chili dogs have that mouth-watering eyeball appeal. They beg to be eaten. And they’re so much more satisfying than a pill. Once again, decisions, decisions.

 

Monday

I haven’t had much appetite lately. For example, this week I have eaten nothing. My friend (a female, of course—no man would tell me I need to eat more) insisted that I need to eat more. So I told her, “Sure, I’ll fix myself a nice salad.” That satisfied her. What did I actually eat? A chili dog. That was my food for the day, and it really did fill me up. If I’m not hungry I’m not going to eat. I hate to disappoint the women in my life, but that is just how it works. If I’m hungry, I eat. If I’m not hungry, I don’t eat. And guess what—being hungry is not my decision. I have no more influence on whether I’m hungry than I have over how much my hair grows overnight.

This is something that (some) women do that drives me nuts. They will pick out some flaw and tell me I can fix it. No matter that I’ve been to a dozen doctors and spent thousands of dollars trying to fix it and it’s still not fixed. They want to explain that I can fix it and they always pull out that old bromide, “Believe in yourself.” I want to tell them, “The next time you break a leg, just tell yourself you can walk if only you believe in yourself.”

I refuse to take advice from people who don’t know what they’re talking about. And women love to give advice.

Maybe this is why I’m not married.

Have a Heart

I have a friend whose grandson was born with handicaps: Down syndrome, autism, and more. At his first job at a restaurant, he brought water to customers, cleaned tables, and similar simple tasks. Some of the other members of the wait-staff, which included other young adults, ridiculed his handicaps so much that he couldn’t take it and he quit the job.

You might ask, why didn’t he complain to his boss? He was too embarrassed. He refused to explain—even to his family—why he quit. His grandmother, who has the tenacity of a bulldog (a female bulldog, of course) finally after many days dragged the story out of him.

But even if he had complained to his boss, and his boss had put an end to the harassment, would you want to continue working at a place where you knew that the other employees thought so little of you, and were probably joking about you behind your back—a job where others rolled their eyes or put a smirk on their face as you entered the room? Probably not.

There is an English proverb that dates back to the mid-sixteenth-century. “There, but for the grace of God, go I.”

The proverb tells us that others’ misfortunes could be our own, were it not for the blessing of the Divine.

But suppose you reply, “I don’t believe in a Divine Being.” That’s okay. Replace the words “the Divine” with something you do believe in, such as good luck or a good upbringing. The point of the proverb is that our fate is not entirely in our hands. Our accomplishments are not entirely ours, and the misfortunes of others are not entirely theirs.

I mention this subject because it seems too many people today do not have enough character to treat others with respect and compassion. Don’t be one of those heartless people! The world has too much cruelty. Let none of us add to it. Have a heart! Be kind. One day, your life—or mine—might depend on the compassion of a stranger.

Colonoscopy

My first colonoscopy found polyps, some of which were pre-cancerous. Two years later my second colonoscopy found more polyps. My third colonoscopy (Tuesday) found one small polyp and it was removed. The doctor told me it will be the last colonoscopy I will have because there comes a point where a person doesn’t have enough life expectancy remaining to go to the effort of trying to extend it. But I had already decided this would be my last exam. The prep is hell, and I resigned to never doing it again.

If you’re a young person you should get your first colonoscopy at age 45 (or sooner) and if everything is OK then get another 10 years later. If you really don’t want to get a colonoscopy, then at least get a flexible sigmoidoscopy. I’ve had one and it’s easy. You are not given any drugs. You go to the doctor and it takes 10 to 15 minutes. Generally, there is no pain, although it may not be comfortable and you may feel a pinch. The sigmoidoscopy exam checks the rectal area and the sigmoid colon. It is not a replacement for a colonoscopy but it is better than nothing. You definitely do not want to have rectal cancer!

Incidentally, the colonoscopy, if done in a hospital, is a piece of cake. You’re sedated (unconscious) and then you wake up and get dressed and go home. The hellacious part is the preparation for the procedure. You have to drink what seems like 55 gallons of nauseating liquid and then spend the rest of your life running to the toilet every 5 minutes. Actually, it’s 4 liters—which is still a lot when you have to drink an 8-ounce glass every 15 minutes for about 5 hours. Plus citrate of magnesia before and after the ordeal. When I write it down, it doesn’t sound bad, but when you are doing it you will say, “OMG, I will not do this again for any amount of money. Let me die.”

The day before the procedure, I had a Covid19 test. It was negative, as I expected it would be, but it’s still nice to have it confirmed.

Now it is Wednesday, the day after the test. I ate nothing on Monday (as per the prep instructions) and I ate nothing on Tuesday, except a bowl of cereal after I got home. I’ve eaten nothing today. I know I need to drink water, but I’m not sure I want to eat anything again, ever. I’m not hungry at all. Maybe I can live on sunlight. I’ve heard that certain holy people can do that. Maybe I’m a holy person and simply don’t know it. You may laugh, but you don’t really know. Let’s find out.

State Farm Update

Ten days ago I blogged about State Farm cancelling my home insurance (you can read it here.) In fairness, I sent my State Farm agent a link to that post. I was hoping he (or someone) at State Farm would understand the situation more clearly and decide that maybe they can attach a rider to the policy that simply excludes coverage for injury that occurs from using the stoop. The only person who might use it would be a burglar intent on breaking into my house.

I don’t know the reason, or whether the blog post had any influence with the company, but State Farm has decided to sell me a new home insurance policy. They didn’t renew the old policy; this is a new and different policy. The policy came with a booklet in small print that describes changes to the new policy. A number of things are excluded from coverage. For instance, they will now exclude coverage for damage by earthquakes and volcanos, although coverage is available for an additional fee. But they have added coverage for certain other events, such as for damage to personal property inside my home that was caused by wild bears or deer. I’m not making that up.

Oddly, the new State Farm policy excludes coverage for damage caused by water coming from a hose or hydrant. I may be wrong, but they seem to be suggesting that they will cover damage from fire, but not damage caused by extinguishing the fire. In the event of a house fire, am I not supposed to call 911?

I’m confused.

Pain part 2

My previous blog post (titled Pain) described my sleeping behavior, which often involves getting out of bed while I am asleep and sleepwalking around the house. I don’t know what I do on these nocturnal adventures but on one memorable night I changed the time on all my clocks. I blogged about that incident in a post titled New Year 2019.

So I have this pain on my right side, in the lower part of my rib cage. Maybe I broke a rib. If so, it will heal. The body knows how to repair itself. Doctors can sometimes assist the body, but make no mistake, the body does the repair.

Today I discovered a bruise on my right hip. The bruise was about the size of my hand. I’ve gotten bruised before. I’ve had larger bruises, too. But this helps explain the pain in my right side. I hit something, or fell on something, and even after that event, I was still asleep. Not only did I get a bruise, but I also got a tear in my skin that bled onto my shirt and bed sheet, and I didn’t know about it until I saw the blood stains. Even then, I didn’t know how the blood got there. But when I saw the bruise and felt the “scabbing over” it all made sense.

I’m kind of glad I slept through the whole thing. From the size of the bruise and the amount of bleeding, it looked like it would have been painful. But regardless of what happens, I always wake up in bed. I have awakened and looked around my bedroom and asked, “What the hell happened in here?” A friend suggested I put some cameras around my house. It sounds like a good idea, but it won’t prevent me from sleep-walking, and watching the video will probably scare the hell out of me. God help me if I begin sleep-driving. And some people have done that. It’s a real thing.

For my other readers who have nighttime sleeping adventures, I want you to know you’re not alone. And for those of you who never experience nighttime sleep-walking, I can only say count your blessings.

Pain

Sometimes I will get up in the night and do various things. I’m not aware of it at the time I’m doing it because I’m technically asleep, but when I awaken in the morning, I will see evidence of it. Sometimes things are moved around. Sometimes things are broken. And sometimes, I injure myself.

This phenomenon more often occurs when people take sleeping pills. And that’s why I don’t take sleeping pills. If I do it when I’m not taking meds, then what in the world will I be doing if I am taking meds?

At the moment I’m suffering pain in my right side from something that happened two days ago. I don’t know what happened, because I have no memory of it. My conscious brain was asleep, but the part of my brain that allows me to do things like walk around and even drive a car, was awake.

A few days ago, in the mid-day hours, I lay down for a nap. When I awoke, I looked at the clock beside my bed and it read 7:00. “Holy cow,” I thought, “I’ve slept through the whole day, and now it’s 7PM.” But I got up and came to the living room and when I sat at my computer and looked at the time, I saw it displayed 7AM. “No way,” I thought, “That isn’t possible,” and I turned on the TV. Indeed, the regular morning shows were on the air. I had slept through the previous day as well as the night. 

I don’t know how I hurt my rib cage. In fact, I’m not even sure that I did hurt it. Maybe it’s a terminal disease, maybe some kind of cancer. Or maybe I’m just clumsy as I walk around asleep. I had planned to go to the pharmacy and pick up a prescription on Thursday. But now I have become aware that today is Thursday. No problem, I’ll go tomorrow. But I did lose a day somewhere. Maybe that was the day that I thought I slept through. Maybe that was the day I injured myself. Maybe.

I’m waiting for the day when I wake up to find my grass has been mowed and my shrubs have been trimmed. That would be great, but I don’t think that “sleeping me” has that much get-up-and-go. It’s “awake me” that has to do the yard work.

If I’m still hurting by next week I’ll make an appointment with my doctor. She’ll ask me questions and press on my side and say, “Does that hurt?” and she’ll send me to the hospital to get a CT scan. I’ll sit in a waiting room for 7 hours (been there, done that) then they’ll scan me. They’ll say everything is normal and bill me $12,000. (That was the cost of my last scan.)

And life goes on. 

Believe It

Here is something that seems sad to me, and maybe it’s just me, and maybe it’s because I’m an old-timer who is out of step with the modern world. I saw a picture of a man standing on top of a mountain. All around him was the vast landscape of the world. Was the man looking at the landscape he had climbed so many thousands of feet in order to see? No.

The man was looking at his mobile phone. And what image do you suppose he was viewing on his phone? He was looking at an image of the landscape that he had photographed with his phone. The actual reality was spread out before him in every direction, but he preferred to look at his phone in order to see a photo of what lay before him.

It’s as though people don’t believe reality unless they see it on their phone. It’s weird, and I don’t know the cure. I hear people say, “I believe it because I saw it with my own eyes.” That is much different from, “I believe it because I saw it on my cell phone with my own eyes.”

If you see it on your cell phone, it is definitely real. But how much can you trust your own eyes? Modern times.

Decisions

If you don’t know VirtualWayne then you should probably read one of my previous 1,483 blog posts. This one is just me bitching which means nothing at all if you don’t know me, and means very little if you do.

I got out of bed and came to the kitchen to take my morning meds. The first thing I noticed was that the clock on the kitchen stove was dark. My foggy brain computed why that might be, and decided that maybe the circuit breaker to the stove was tripped off.

I put on shoes and went down the basement stairwell to check the breaker panel. Sure enough, the breaker to the range was tripped. I tried to reset it but it would not stay reset. It insisted on being in the OFF position.

I came back upstairs and unplugged the stove from the electrical outlet. I went back to the cellar and tried to reset the breaker, but it would not stay in the ON position. So now I knew that the stove wasn’t the problem. The problem was either the circuit breaker or the wiring to the stove. I thought it was unlikely that the wiring would develop a short circuit. It was far more likely that the circuit breaker had a problem. Coincidentally, this breaker had tripped once before during a major thunderstorm. Lightning had struck near my house and tripped that breaker, and had blown a fuse in my garage and had burned out the power supply to the garage door opener. I jury-rigged a cord to a relay inside the door opener so that I could open and close the door (I know what you’re thinking, but jury-rigged and jerry-rigged have different meanings).

So I have no working stove now, but I have a microwave oven and a toaster oven. I have an electric wok for making stir-fries. They will suffice. I can buy an electric skillet for $30 or a hotplate for $25. Once I had a double hotplate and I used it constantly. It sat on my stovetop but it was so easy to use and keep clean that I preferred it over the cooktop on the stove.

Or maybe, and this is a real possibility, I might drive 1 mile to Home Depot and buy a replacement circuit breaker. Decisions, decisions.

Pavarotti

I’ve been listening to opera tonight. Specifically one of my favorite songs, Nessun Dorma, the aria from the opera Turandot by Giacomo Puccini. The opera was based on Carlo Gozzi's play Turandot, but maybe that’s more than you want to know. Nessun Dorma is my favorite aria and as soon as you hear it you will recognize it. If you don’t love it, there is something wrong with you.

Here is Nessun Dorma performed by world-famous tenor Luciano Pavarotti.

White Privilege

I’m White. Where’s my White Privilege?

My working career began when I was 13 years old. I’ve had some sucky jobs since then. I don’t recall ever getting a break because I was white. I had to work hard and long just to stay afloat.

I think the term “White privilege” was invented to make Black people feel better about themselves. People can tell them, your life sucks not because you dropped out of school and stand on the street corner selling dope. It’s that White privilege thing that puts White people ahead of you.

Do you know how much Oprah Winfrey is worth? Probably not, but here is the answer: 2.6 billion dollars. She’s a Black woman, and supposedly that is two strikes against her, black and female, and she yet she is worth 2.6 billion dollars.

How does she do it? Because she’s smart and makes good decisions. That’s all it takes in America. Be smart and make good decisions.

Do you know what is the most successful demographic in America? Do you know who makes the most money? Indians. I’m talking about brown-skinned people from India. My primary care physician is Indian. My gastro-interologist is Indian. My cardiologist is Indian.

White privilege isn’t real. It’s an excuse. Think about that.

Siamese Twins

Many years ago I worked in North Carolina with a man named Henry Bunker. He was a direct descendant of one of the famous “Siamese Twins” whose real names were Chang and Eng Bunker. They were born in 1811 in Siam (now called Thailand) and came to America at age 17. They earned a living in traveling “freak shows” of that day. They married and moved to Mt. Airy, North Carolina. Together they fathered 21 children. Their families lived in separate houses, and the brothers would spend three days at one house then three days at the other house. After the Civil War they lost part of their wealth so they went back to work, meaning back to the “freak show” circuit. Sometimes, some of their children traveled with them. They died at age 62. Chang died of a stroke; Eng’s cause of death is unknown.

I recall sitting in my office talking with Henry about his world-famous forebears. He told me interesting tales about their lives—stories you won’t find by reading Wikipedia. It’s crazy how some people you consider ordinary folk have such strange stories to tell about themselves or their families. But I suppose, to them, they aren’t strange stories at all—they’re just facts and family history. I think probably a lot of us have fascinating stories to tell, if only we knew they were fascinating.

South China Sea

America is the “world’s policeman.” We are trying to keep European countries from going to war with each other. That is why, since WW2, America has had military forces stationed in Europe. For the past 75 years, that has worked fairly well. Not perfectly, mind you, but there has been no major European war during those years that have seen American troops stationed in Europe.

Now China is taking a more aggressive stance and is claiming it owns the South China Sea, a claim that is disputed by all other countries surrounding that body of water. America is disputing it, too, and regularly sends naval vessels across the South China Sea. But where are America’s allies?

Why don’t we see British, German, French, Spanish, Italian, etc., naval vessels sailing with the U.S. fleet? Wouldn’t that send a much stronger message? I know that Australia and Japan support America in keeping open the South China Sea. But if all of our “allies” are not willing to show that they are prepared to use force to keep open the South China Sea, then why should the U.S. care about it?

Just asking.

Mail It In

Yesterday I received in the mail an application for an absentee ballot. The election officials want everyone to vote by mail, which makes sense in this season of Covid-19. Then this morning I saw on the news that there had been a slight bump in the road to voting. The application came with its own return envelope, and some of the envelopes had the wrong address; i.e., some of the applications will be mailed to the wrong registrar.

I feel relieved. If this simple job had been done without errors, it might have indicated that an outbreak of competence was spreading through government. That is worrisome. What if everyone in government starts doing their job correctly? What will happen if suddenly we have a government that works? Nobody knows, because it would be unprecedented. No, there must be a few screw-ups along the way. But the nice thing about working for the government is that if you screw up enough times, you get promoted. I read about a government worker that punched his boss in the face. Because of a plethora of regulations, they couldn’t fire him, so in order to get him out of that department they promoted him. Punch your boss; get a promotion. What a deal! And government asks why they have a less than stellar reputation.

Government needs a motto, and I have a suggestion. “Here’s a simple job. Let’s count the ways you can screw it up.”

Contractor Troubles

My neighbor contracted with a company to build a fence across the back of her yard. She asked me if I would like the fence to go all the way to the corner of my garage. My garage is five feet from the property line, so the fence would extend five feet into my yard. I asked her to end the fence at the property line. The fence installers arrived and put up the new fence. They installed the fence—you can probably guess this part—all the way to my garage.

I had a new roof put on my house. It leaked. I called the owner of the roofing company, but he refused to fix the leak. I called the foreman of the crew that had done the work. He promised he would fix the leak, but as it turned out—you can probably guess this part—promising to fix the leak is all he would do.

I asked another roofing company to fix the leak. They tried several times but they only made the leak worse. Then they quit trying.

I asked a third roofer to fix the leak. I paid him $462 and thought the leak was history. But then the rain fell hard and the wind blew, and I had a funny feeling that told me I should go upstairs and peek under the eave and check on that leak. I did and—you can probably guess this part—the roof was leaking in the same place it had been leaking all along.

I called the owner of the company and told him the roof was still leaking. He asked if he could call me back in one minute because he had another call. He promised he’d call back in one minute. I told him okay. The call ended and—you can probably guess this part—he never called back. I didn’t attempt to reach him again. I was pretty sure my call would go directly to voice mail.

I saw a contractor sitting in his truck parked across the street. I walked over and told him I had a simple job for him. He said he couldn’t do it at that time, which was understandable, but he promised he would be back “next week.” He promised two or three times. He gave me his business card, and after he drove away I texted him a reminder. I never saw him again.

I phoned a plumber and, of course, got his answering device. I left my name and number and asked him to return my call. He never called me.

A man who does occasional yard work for me said he knew a man who would definitely do a simple roof repair job for me which I estimate would take 5 to 10 minutes to do. My yard guy said the man would call me in 2 weeks. I never heard anything from him. No phone call, nothing.

This kind of thing happens all the time with every company I deal with regardless of size. Whatever happened to “integrity” in this country? Oh, I know. Integrity is something people had in olden days, and this is modern times. “Get with the program, VW. Things like integrity, doing a good job, and keeping your word are so 20th century.”

I know, but what can I say? I’m a 20th century guy. Keeping my word is part of my DNA.

Is State Farm Still There?

Most home owners have an insurance policy on their home. If you are such a home owner, then think about this—you’re betting money that your home is going to be damaged or destroyed, and the insurance company is taking your bet and they’re betting that nothing seriously bad is going to happen to your house. So, you’re betting against yourself each time you send your insurance company a check.

I’ve had home insurance for years and I’ve never made a claim. Nevertheless, my insurance company (State Farm) has decided to terminate my home insurance, effective in September. However, they will allow me to continue sending them money if I will do two things.

I have a little side “porch” (it’s about 3x5 feet and is commonly called a “stoop” in these parts) and State Farm wants me to put a railing on it and down two steps to the ground. I suppose they fear someone may fall into the grassy yard, which would be a drop of about 1 to 3 feet, depending on where the “victim” was standing. There is a door on the end of my house that allows access to this stoop. However, that door hasn’t been used in many years. In fact, if you were inside my house, you would see a refrigerator parked in front of that door. That’s because my kitchen is so small that there’s no good place to put the fridge without getting rid of a kitchen cabinet and a cutting-block table.

“But what if there’s a fire?” you ask. My answer: I have a front door, a back door, and a basement door that all open to the outside. Plus, the refrigerator is on wheels and can be rolled away from the side door in an emergency. Nevertheless, simply because the stoop exists it must have a railing, even though it has never had a railing and that has never been a problem.

Then there’s the second issue. The stoop is made of cement block with a brick façade, as is the rest of the house. So the brick, in this case, is not structurally significant. It doesn’t support anything. It merely hides the cement block and makes the stoop blend in with the rest of the house. But the brickwork on the stoop is getting to be in bad shape. Some of the mortar has deteriorated and one or two bricks have become loose. It’s a cosmetic issue. Nevertheless, State Farm insists I must repair the stoop’s façade or my policy will be cancelled.

Frankly, I think State Farm just wants to eliminate older homes (that may have more problems) from their customer pool. My guess is they prefer to insure newer homes, and I can understand that. While I’ve been betting against myself for years, State Farm has been betting on me. But now they’ve chosen to not bet on me. So I’ve been thinking about countering their non-bet on me with my own non-bet against me. I’ll quit betting against myself and allow the insurance to drop. I’ll save hundreds of dollars each year which can be applied to expenses like, oh, let’s say…railings and mortar repairs.

Maybe State Farm will reconsider their decision to drop me and do what the jingle says and be like a good neighbor. Remember that jingle? “Like a good neighbor, State Farm is there!” Maybe they’ll be there, but that’s up to them. (By the way, do you know who wrote that jingle? It was written by Barry Manilow. He was paid $500 for writing it. State Farm really got some mileage out of that jingle. It’s an earworm—once you hear it, you can’t forget it.)

My home insurance may be ending, but at least State Farm still has my auto policy—for a while. Just kidding, I would never cancel my State Farm auto insurance just because State Farm canceled my home insurance.

Oh, who am I kidding? Sure I would!

[Update 8/15/2020: State Farm Update]

Isaias Update

I woke early, around 3:15AM. The outer rain bands of Isaias arrived in my central Virginia city at 3:40AM with a powerful burst of rainfall. I got up and got on the computer and turned on the local news. There were tornado warnings, then tornados confirmed on the ground. At 5:55AM, electric power went off, then returned. I went back to bed and went to sleep.

When I awoke at 8:30AM, all was quiet. No rain, no wind, and the sun was out. But the local news had photos and video of significant storm damage, apparently from tornadoes. Many trees are down, some falling on cars or houses. Tractor-trailers are blown over onto their sides, lying across the road. Flash floods required water rescues for stranded motorists. Several hundred thousand people, mostly in eastern counties and the Northern Neck, were without electricity.

Rainfall measured at a nearby airport was 5.37 inches, and maximum wind at the airport was 51 mph, but was 70 mph in eastern Virginia, near the storm center. 

I haven’t walked around my house, but looking through the windows at the neighborhood, it looks like my city escaped the worst. I’m hoping my house has all its shingles. I expect it will. I see no evidence of any leaks of rain into my house. So blue skies, wet grass, and all is quiet.  The temperature is a comfortable 74°F. I opened a front window and back door. I’d like to get a cross-breeze through the house, but the air is still. Still, it’s a very nice morning for those of us lucky enough to have missed the worst.

Isaias

I’m sitting in my house awaiting the appearance of tropical storm Isaias (pronounced ees-ah-EE-ahs). Speaking of which, where did the name Isaias come from? Is it even a real name, or just a made-up word? I delved into that. Turns out, Isaias is the Spanish form of the Hebrew name Isaiah.

Why did the National Weather Service choose it? Have they run out of regular names? I bet they haven’t used ‘Igor’ for a storm but we could, and we wouldn’t need a pronunciation expert to tell us how to say it. Tropical Storm Igor: it even sounds malevolent.

I will probably have a roof leak. The last time we had a tropical storm come through my city was in 2018. Florence had been a destructive hurricane in the Carolinas but dissipated to a tropical storm when it got to central Virginia. But it was a strong storm; it blew a piece of vinyl off the north side of my north dormer. That caused the dormer to leak when the rain was heavy and the wind was blowing hard from the north. The dormer hasn’t leaked again, but tonight or tomorrow will be a test of that dormer.

And what happens when the dormer leaks? The water runs down inside the wall of the dormer and ultimately leaks through my ceiling. I have to put a bucket under it, but the ceiling is definitely screwed up.

You may be asking why haven’t I replaced that missing piece of vinyl. That’s a fair question, especially considering that I still have the vinyl—I recovered it from my front yard after the storm. I’m too old to be climbing on rooftops. And the workmen I have contacted about repairing it, and who promised to fix it, have never materialized. The thing about home repairmen is they will accept all the jobs they are offered, then they will pick and choose the easiest and best-paying jobs and blow off all the rest. You’ll never hear from them. It appears that if they can’t make $500 on a job, it’s not worth doing. And this is a 5 minute job, after the repairman gets on the roof. Stick the vinyl in place, put a couple of screws in it, and maybe some caulk. Done. Climb down the ladder, put the ladder on the truck, and accept payment.

A bigger concern is losing electricity tonight or tomorrow. I have food in the fridge and the freezer. Without power, the food will be off refrigeration and I’ll have no way to cook it. But I don’t keep enough food on hand to worry about throwing it out. I may lose a few dollars, but I have canned food on hand if it comes down to starvation—and it won’t. 

No, the real problem with having no power is having no TV and no Internet. I might be able to connect to the Web through my mobile phone, but there’s no guarantee. When I’ve lost power in previous storms, the cell towers were down, too. But not everyone’s cell service was out—only the company that I had my service with. Because that’s how my life works. When I can’t cook at home and I go to a burger joint to eat, I’m the guy in line behind the guy who orders 86 burgers to go. Yes, that really happened. (link)

So now it’s a late Monday evening and I’m just waiting for Isaias.

Just waiting.

Credit Card Dilemma

I pay all my expenditures with a credit card. It’s always the same credit card, which simplifies things. I pay the bill off every month to avoid interest charges.

In July, I paid the June bill. A few days ago I was looking at my credit card statement for July and I noticed they had credited my July payment for the June bill twice. Same day, same amount, listed twice on the statement. At first I thought the mistake was mine and I had paid the bill twice. But I checked my bank statement and it showed I had made only one payment in July to the credit card company. So this was their mistake.

I thought about saying nothing but, as I’m honest to a fault, I knew I had to let the card company know about it. So I called their 800 number, which is listed on the back of the card in a font so tiny it requires a microscope to read the number. My call was answered by a robot voice. It wanted to know how it could help me. Now these robot things are designed for simple situations such as “I want to pay my bill”, or “I want to check my balance.” They are completely inadequate for something like “You applied my payment for the June statement twice.” Saying that will elicit this response: “If you will give me a little more information, I can help you.” Trust me, there is no amount of information that will make this robot voice understand the situation. After going around the mulberry bush a few times with the robot, I hung up.

I called back with another strategy. When the robot voice answered, I told it, “I want to talk to a human.” The robot voice replied, “If you will give me a little more information, I can help you.” And I said, “No, I want to talk to a human.” The robot voice replied, “I understand, you want to talk to a human. If you will give me a little more information, I can help you.”

No, we’re not doing this again. With persistence, I was able to contact a human, doubtless in a call center. After giving him sufficient proof that I was who I said I was, he checked my account on his computer. “Everything looks okay,” he told me.

“But you applied my June payment twice,” I told him. He responded, “Everything looks okay.”

I thanked him for his time and hung up. I pondered the matter. Perhaps the June payment that was listed twice on the statement had been applied only once. So I copied the statement to a spreadsheet to see if the two payments were actually applied. The spreadsheet agreed with the statement. The card company had indeed applied my June payment twice.

The outcome of this is going to be one of two things. One, I get free money on my credit card account, or two, the credit card company has me charged with committing computer fraud.

If you don’t hear from me again, well, I’m just saying—the U.S. Marshalls may have picked me up. Stay tuned for further developments.

I’m hitting the Publish button now. I have to go, there’s someone knocking on my front door. Strange, someone at my door this time of night.