Political Hats

After months of predictions from leading economists about market volatility in the wake of the election of Donald Trump, this weekend witnessed sales in the Uterus Hats industry suddenly soar and then abruptly crash in an unprecedented twenty-four hour event.

No More Mondays

Some people worry about the evolution of automation, but as a person who really likes to sleep-in, I’m looking forward to the day when my driverless car makes the morning commute to the employeeless job I used to have.

When The Meter Breaks

The power company simply loves its external meters.  Their “meter readers” can just drive by and catch your numbers from their trucks, or maybe they just send a drone over your house, who knows?  It’s really awesome.  Until the external meter breaks.  Then you get a letter advising you in BOLD PRINT that YOUR external meter, which you’ve never had anything to do with and aren’t really sure where it is or how or when it was even installed, isn’t working, and please call the office as soon as possible.  And so you call.  “Um…”, you ask, “is there something I need to do?”   “Oh, no sir…” the guy in the India (or wherever he is) call center (his name is Spencer) assures you, “but your readings for the last two months have been estimated, so it’s very important that it is repaired as soon as possible….”. 

Interestingly, you’ve been receiving congratulatory monthly notices from your power company comparing your usage to that of your neighbors.  Apparently, your estimated usage has fallen within a favorable percentage lower than the estimated usage of your neighbors, assuming that their meters are in similar states of disrepair.  Or maybe your estimated usage has compared well to the actual usage taken from your neighbors’ working external meters.  Either way, atta boy!

And so, anyway, you ask, “ok, do I have to be home for you to fix YOUR meter?”  And the Indian (it may be Burmese or Thai) call center guy, Spencer, says “oh no sir, we’ll be out next Monday.”  And so, with no further contact from Spencer or any of his team in Manila or Bangladesh or wherever they are, or any obvious visits to your home from a local power company person, YOUR meter is “fixed”.  And, also without further contact from Spencer and his team in Guam or wherever, your next bill arrives with mystery “adjustments” that add a back-billed $64 to your amount owed and no mention of a meter repair.  Of course, you are SHOCKED that the actual reading with the fixed meter didn’t result in an adjustment in your favor, and hope that it hasn’t resulted in your stellar standing in the heated neighborhood utility usage contest being in any way diminished.

The Day After

Twas the day after Christmas, and the townsfolk gathered at the gym, adorned in baggy sweat suits, to atone for their gluttony.  #ghostsofnewyearsresolutionsfuture

Christmas Vacation

President Obama is Hawaii-bound for a 17-day vacation, which will be the last of his time in office.  Apparently, the White House has a rigid “use it or lose it” vacation policy.

The Four Days of Christmas

The Twelve Days of Christmas is a traditional song we all remember, and will no doubt hear during this holiday season.  Usually, about half way through the song, the singers, suddenly concerned that the song may never end, start to look uncomfortable and awkward.  The audience responds in matching horror and fear.  I think we can all agree that the song is painfully and unnecessarily long.  I suggest an alternate take on the classic, keeping what I feel are the most important components.  I like the ladies dancing and maids a milking, so I’m keeping them.  The swans and geese and calling birds and french hens and turtle doves are clearly fowl-redundant, and well represented by the partridge at the end of the song, so I say dump them.  Now, I don’t know about you but personally, but I couldn’t care less about drummers drumming and pipers piping.  It’s what they’re paid to do, and shouldn’t warrant special consideration and mention in a Christmas song.  And lords a leaping?  What or who the hell is that? Anyway, I’m dumping the drummers, pipers and the creepy leaping lords, too.  The most fun verse of the song is when we get to scream the GOLDEN RINGS part, so we’re keeping that.  That leaves us with the partridge, which I guess is what some people want in their pear trees at Christmas, and so, whatever. 

So here’s your new and improved “The Four Days of Christmas”.  You’re welcome.  Enjoy all the holiday time I just freed up for you, and Merry Christmas.

 

The Four Days of Christmas

On the Fourth Day of Christmas

My true love gave to me:

Four Ladies Dancing

Three Maids a Milking

TWO GOLDEN RINGS!

And a Partridge in a Pear Tree!

Like

I know this shows my age, but I remember a time when people spoke in sentences not peppered with the word “like”.