Morning, sportsfans. Last night about 10 p.m. Shanahan whacked another possum in the back yard, this one of hullmongolous proportions. I’ve lost count of the body count and backyard carnage.
On the other hand the carnage wreaked by a dog’s hunting instinct doesn’t begin to match the carnage spread by a state government with two parties who seem more interested in scoring political points against each other, than fixing the financial woes of our schools, state government, and many more aspects of state life. Michigan used to be a true wonderland to live in. Now it’s becoming the land of the dead, literally and figuratively. Private corporations are doing their own damage to everyone. Banks and credit card companies changing interest rates on whim, gas prices going up 40 cents in a week on who knows what trumped up justification. My long-time (30 years) employer The Upjohn Company, joined with Pharmacia to become Pharmacia Upjohn and now is part of Pfizer, the world’s most hullmongolouos pharmaceutical firm, has announced it is severely modifying retiree medical programs. Not to mention employing astounding numbers of uncaring incompetents. For example I am at the moment without health insurance because when I signed up for Medicare, Pfizer told Jambe Longue and me in separate phone calls that I did not need to sign up for Medicare Part B. Guess what: I did need to. I didn’t learn the reality until nine months later when I had to make a hospital run in the U.P. So I’ve have no choice but wait untl the nex sign-up period, which is this coming January to March, but having signed up then, the coverage will not begin until… next July 1. Sweet. Acting on Pfizer’s word means I will have had no effective medical insurance since October 2008. Paid for insurance, sure. Actually had it? No. Hey no surprise. I paid insurance for my late wife’s death for 6-7 years after she died, despite sending them death certificates. Money back. Sorry, it doesn’t work that way. Course, they had no idea how that happened and you might as well seek an audience with god as find someone in a company who will both actually talk to you and know what they are talking about. Enough whinging. It is raining. Again. Can’t say what’s happening on the plains of Spain, only here, and this rain’s a pain.
It’s instructive to focus on language in communication we get from without, to wit, this letter from Charter, which “Brings your home to life.” Addressing me with the intimate Dear Charter Customer, it thanks me for my loyalty, and informs me that as of December they are increasing residential pricing. The price for for my cable TV will ” go from $35.99 to $38.99 for a change of $3.”
They don’t say that’s 8.3 percent. Just a change of $3. Then they tell me that my “rental charge for high speed internet will be adjusted from $3 to $5 for a change of $2.” Uh, assholes, that uh adjustment is uh an increase of 67%! The way governments and companies use language makes me think they are convinced we are all short-bus cretins. And hell, maybe we are.
While I’m in vent mode, Mr. President, get on with the goddamn decision regarding troop increases in Afghanistan. You yourself determined this is not a war of choice, but the war in my mind is not against the Afghanis. Nor is our mission there to rebuild a shithole-forever country that has never been an actual country except in name. The mission is to find Osama-Bag-of-Shit and kill his mass murderouos miserable ass, and string him and his thugs up on a light pole, like the Italians did to Mussolini. Let bin Laden become a martyr to those who want it to be so, but let him become dead first, foremostly, and soon. Dubya Doody Dodo sent our legions into Iraq which had nothing to do with what happened in New York on Nine-Eleven. We took our eye off the ball, and that ball is now somewhere on the Afghan Pakistan border. It’s time to get that sonovabitch, once and for all.
Found typos on the front page of the web site. Those ought to be corrected today. The new manuscript stands at 38,000 words, about 40 percent done and will get a rest this weekend.
The area where I live is well known for a high percentage of cloudy, no-sun days. Living here is a nice preview of nuclear winter, absent the fallout. Back in my Air Force days we occasionally refueled Air Guard F-89s over west Michigan and we called the area in summer Thunderstorm Alley, and in winter, The Black Hole of Calcutta. Even with global warming impinging, those two monikers continue to apply.
I’ve been invited to Dallas, Texas to speak in January. I plan to drive the Green Streamer and make it a road trip adventure. Yippee ki-ay!
I’ll be rolling with the DNR tonight and tomorrow night, somewhere south of here. Back achu, Monday. Have a good one. Over and LASURM.