Uncle Hyena (unclehyena) wrote,
Uncle Hyena
unclehyena

Random Bits from Facebook

November 3:
Went south yesterday, visited my dad and played poker. I was not quite right physically or mentally, clumsy and fog bound. It made the visit with my dad more depressing than usual, and the poker game not much fun.

While I was gone, the arborist came by and confirmed that the big oak tree is doomed, is likely to collapse this winter if not removed, and will cost at least as much to remove as I expected.

When I got up this morning, I got a piece of fan mail for my poem "Wild Hunt's Justice" that is more than five times as long as the poem. It helps a LOT...

November 3:
At the poker game last night, we were discussing my relationship with Coca-cola and Dr. Pepper, and I referred to Dr. Pepper a couple of times as "methadone." It occurred to me belatedly that most of the people at the table didn't know what methadone was. I mentioned this to Dementia, and she said that SHE didn't know what it was. Hmmm.

November 4:
Twice now, I have mentioned Jim Croce's "Rapid Roy" to a group of people who are more or less old enough to remember, and have gotten a room full of blank looks. This is WRONG. I won't argue that it is a brilliant piece of music, it's just insanely happy and FUN.

November 6:
Expectations matter. Being told that they need to amputate your foot is happy and exciting news when you were expecting them to take the whole leg. (Don't panic; this is a metaphor for a financial situation. Our feet are just fine, thank you.)

November 6:
As I went walking I saw a sign there
And on the sign it said "No Trespassing."
But on the other side it didn't say nothing,
That side was made for you and me.

--Woody Guthrie, "This Land is Your Land", 1940

Amazing things can happen when you know ALL of the words...

(Thanks to Tom "Filkertom" Smith for the history lesson.)

November 6:
Watching recorded television, came across the first commercial for Kraken Spiced Rum that we have ever seen. Dementia is FOND of Kraken Spiced Rum. We watched the commercial twice in a row.

November 8:
Yesterday afternoon, I cleared the leaves off of the front lawn. There are only three trees that contribute to the mess (and one of those is reaching over from behind the house), and the whole area is about 1750 square feet.

It took three and a half hours. They're BIG trees...

November 8:
As a result of a conversation I had on Monday night, I did some back of the envelope calculations, and determined that if the US had a flat rate 50% income tax, it could provide every single US resident with a tax free income of $15,000, maintain all current expenses, and end up with an annual surplus of almost a trillion dollars. There would be short term pain for some people who are already pretty well off, and long term gain for EVERYONE. If only we could convince the damned cat to wear the bell...

November 8:
Here's a phrase that has been rattling around in my head for a few days. Now maybe it will do some rattling elsewhere, too: "Automation driven labor surplus." Go ahead. Think about it.

November 9:
Now the world has all turned white;
Joy has vanished overnight;
Beauty has a nasty bite.
How I hate the snow!

(With a tip of the hat to Douglas Adams and Marvin.)

November 11:
To all those whose blood has ever run green (regardless of service branch); those who came home whole, those who left blood and flesh and soul behind, and those who never came home at all:

Thank you.

November 11:
In the last half hour, I have encountered two different, "Please repost this so that I know who I can count on when I'm feeling suicidal," memes.

No. If you've been paying attention, you KNOW that I have been suicidal in the past, and am ALWAYS willing to talk if you need to (and if you can catch me). It's IMPORTANT. But I won't circulate a meme that will make everyone who knows me worry about me for no reason. That would be rude and pointless on my part.

You are absolutely welcome to my time. You are NOT welcome to upset my friends. Toxic memes serve no one.

November 12:
He was 38 years old and planning to quit the business that he had gotten tired of when they gave him a new assignment. His wife convinced him, since he was leaving and had nothing to lose, that he should give this one everything he had to give, and he created the Fantastic Four. And the world started to change.

He wasn't a saint, but he was a decent man, and he leaves an indelible mark on our idioms, our metaphors, and our mythology. We see the world differently because of him.

Fare well, Stan. Good roads, calm seas, fair winds, and cold beer.

Excelsior!
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