COVID Legacy: Waste-of-Space Workmen REPRINT

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From August 3, 2022

I can’t shake the suspicion that something bad happened to America during our stupid COVID lockdowns–something subtly bad that no one saw happening at the time.

Let me put it this way: Since the lockdowns, a lot of people have forgotten how to work.

F’rinstance: We drink bottled water. Once a month we get four bottles, five gallons each. This we’ve been doing for some 30 years. We put the empties in the foyer and the delivery guy takes them away and leaves the new bottles there.

This week the delivery guy left our new bottles out on the sidewalk in the broiling sun and never bothered to open the foyer door, let alone take away the empties. Lazy! Shiftless! No idea how to do a simple job! I called up the company and read them the riot act. “I hope he doesn’t get fired,” said the office guy. “If he makes a hog’s ass of the job,” I said, “he should get fired!” I guess I made myself clear: they sent the driver back to take the empties and put the new bottles in the foyer.

But we’re seeing this stuff all the time now, aren’t we? It’s like all these sloppy, incompetent, who-gives-a-rap, what-me-worry workmen have their own personal Joe Bidens in their heads instead of brains. They really seem to have no idea of what “work” is, as if they’ve never seen it before. And who knows–maybe they haven’t. Not in school. Not in college. Maybe nowhere.

Can we straighten ourselves out from this? It won’t be easy!

Is ‘The Lying Tart’ Haunted? REPRINT

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From March 1, 2020

Forget Chapter CCCXLVII. I already have.

In Chapter CCCXLVIII of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney, Violet Crespuscular takes us to Scurveyshire’s favorite tavern, The Lying Tart, which is said to have acquired a resident ghost. It has been seen by many patrons while availing themselves of the tavern’s commodious outdoor facilities (“I cannot bring myself to write the word ‘outhouse,'” Ms. Crepuscular confesses).

The apparition takes the form of a headless lady in a flowing white gown , sometimes accompanied by a huge black dog named Chips. She has been seen walking between the tavern and the stables, parading back and forth along the edge of the roof, or skipping directly toward the observer, carrying her head like a basketball. The game of basketball has not yet been invented. She always vanishes just before getting close enough to grab you.

Constable Chumley investigates. His report is grim. “Thy flivven craiths yon cocksie fairn,” he reports grimly. Lord Jeremy Coldsore, justice of the peace, takes notes.

“What’s he sayin’, ol’ hoss?” wonders the American adventurer, Willis Twombley.

“He says she doesn’t have a coccyx,” Jeremy translates. “That’s bad!” mutters Twombley.

Trade at The Lying Tart has begun to fall off, threatening the shire’s economy. It is widely believed that The Lady in White is looking for company. No one wants to be that company.

“This is the work of Black Rodney,” opines Johnno the Merry Minstrel, who is somewhat merrier now that his gizzard has grown back. His opinion is confirmed by the discovery of several cuss-bags in the landlord’s stock of ale. The landlord has tried to cut his losses by offering free beer to the first customer who succeeds in having a conversation with the ghost.

Here Ms. Crepuscular breaks in with a recipe for toothpaste-flavored biscuits. It is clear she doesn’t know what to do about the ghost.

 

O God Our Help In Ages Past

A LITTLE HUMOR TO ROUND OUT THE DAY

I just read a story about 3 men convicted in California of insurance fraud. This fraud was perpetrated by having someone dressed in a bear suit (honest) attacking luxury cars and damaging them.  Then the others (don’t know if they all took part in the costume part) filed claims of damage (by the ersatz bear) for huge sums of money.  They got caught.  Gee I wonder why?  That bear suit would not have fooled anybody.

When I went to the convenience store today the owner was being very stern with some guy because she (the owner) allowed him to use her microwave to warm up his food (which he had not purchased there–she just let him use it as a courtesy) and left the microwave a total mess.  That’s a really nice way to pay back someone who is extending you a courtesy.

Are people just getting dumber?  More careless? Totally selfish?

Sure beats me.

Catch you tomorrow.

God bless everybody.

Patty

 

SHY DOG IS HAPPY WHEN SHE MEETS A FRIEND

WOMAN CARRIES BABY WALLABY IN A POUCH-LIKE BAG

CAT ADOPTS INFANT HEDGEHOGS

How Liberals Make Human Life Unliveable REPRINT

 

From May 12, 2015

Want to kill your culture dead? Simply set up a lot more colleges and universities than the country will ever need, staff them with insane liberal wackos, and, at great cost, fill them with millions of not-very-bright students with no particular bent for scholarship.

And just to make sure the stake goes through the heart, partner the colleges with labor unions.

F’rinstance: Student employees at the University of Washington are preparing to vote on “whether hurting someone’s feelings should be ‘grievable’ under their union’s contract with the school” ( http://www.thecollegefix.com/post/22415/ ). The union representing teaching assistants, administrative aides, and other college gofers who have never once set foot inside an auto factory is the United Auto Workers.

The key sticking point in the negotiations is whether these tender souls must be protected from any word, thought, or deed that might possibly offend them. The union wants this stuff to be “grievable”–meaning that if you’re one of these fragile flowers and your feelings get hurt, the school has to give you money and punish the ogre who bruised your feelings.

The goal is to root out “microaggression.”

Huh? What in the world is that? Well, it’s “unconscious bias,” or “unintended discrimination” which, even if the enemy of the human race has no awareness that he is being exclusive or homophobic or racist or whatevuh, “has the same effect as conscious, intended discrimination.”

This is the coming thing, a spokeswoman for the UAW said–“the next level of discourse in this country around racism, sexism, and homophobia.” It’ll make the campus “more inclusive,” too, whatever that means.

I grew up in a UAW household. I can’t imagine what has happened to that union.

Because all of the offenses of “microaggression” are done unconsciously, and without intent, virtually any human interaction may be seen as including some form of microaggression. Our cherished minorities can go on witch hunts all day long, guaranteed to bag somebody.

You won’t even know you’ve committed an offense until they bust you for it. Anything you say, anything you do–absolutely anything–might cost you your job, or whatever other penalty they make up as they go along.

How will you prepare for this next level of discourse?

A Minor Hiccup at Quokka U. REPRINT

From May 23, 2020

G’day! Byron the Quokka here–and that’s the great Alvin Kasavubu’s blue bike in the background. I am jumping for joy because I found it!

Mr. Kasavubu very kindly agreed to be our first celebrity lecturer here at Quokka University. He is one of the world’s foremost experts on how to keep frogs from jumping off your head once you put them up there, and we were all very excited to have him.

Well, he showed up on his bicycle; and imagine our dismay when his bike went missing! I hope nobody thinks any of us quokkas tried to steal it. After all, our feet can’t reach the pedals. Anyway, poor Mr. Kasavubu, when he’d finished his lecture and wanted to go home, couldn’t find his bike. Was he ever upset! And we all had to go looking for it.

Happily, it wasn’t stolen, after all: somebody just moved it. We suspect wombats. They can’t resist a bit of joy-riding. If we ever find out who actually moved the bike, we’ll have to put them on academic probation. If we can figure out how to do that.

But at least we had the lecture, and a very interesting lecture it was!

We are well on our way to creating one of the world’s great universities.

This Is My Father’s World