No Meeting For Me

Today was a day of surprises. I arrived this morning to the news that Randall Bing was looking for me. I figured that it could be connected to my having figured a way out of the mandatory meeting and I braced for the worst. Randall actually seemed unperturbed that I was evading the meeting, but wanted me to get a couple of things done for him, since he and the rest of our crack staff would be occupied at the meeting. A small price to pay not to have to drive 4 hours to be bored senseless. So for today, I was in charge and even if I say so myself, things went splendidly. My coworker, who has been off sick for the past couple of weeks, is due back tomorrow and he can resume his rightful position as the responsible one, leaving me free to resume living down to people's expectations. In other news, I was quite disturbed with the reaction to my post yesterday by some people and they know who they are. A guy lays bare his physical and emotional problems and does he get sympathy? Heck no, he gets taunted. It is a sad commentary on our society. Lastly, for those who wonder, here is an update from the 99th circle of Hell. Cletus Sneed, drug addict and chronic underachiever called me this morning and it went something like this. Me: Hello. Him: Dad, why did you ask me how much I needed this time, when I called the other day? Me: Well, because that's why you call me and besides, you asked for $50. Him: I haven't asked for money in 4 months and I don't appreciate being lied to (no idea what that means). Me: Well, I gave you twenty bucks about two weeks ago, then you called asking for eighty, then a few days later it was a hundred and now fifty. Sounds like asking to me. Him: But you didn't give it to me. (If a guy asks for money in a forest and no one is around to give it to him, did he still ask?) Me: Yeah but you asked. Him: I don't like being f**king lied to. Me: I have to get back to work now. Goodbye. This is how he gets when he is on drugs. He has this misguided and misdirested indignation. Alas, this is just the first of months of calls I am likely to get like this. Here's some advice. If you ever think adoption is a good idea and someone from the State tries to tell you to adopt an older child, because he is just a wonderful little boy who just needs people to love and care for him, run for it. Merle. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgemental and cranky Tag: Daily Life Personal Finance Humor

The Crud Has Stopped Creeping

Man how lucky am I? I woke up this morning and said to the lovely Mrs. Sneed, "Dear, I hope today is the worst day for the stock markets since 9/11. But that is probably too much to ask for." One of the depressing things about getting old is that you find yourself in places that are a stark reminder of that fact. The dermatologist's office for instance. You don't want to find yourself in the dermatologist's office, because it is filled with other, even older geezers, sitting around waiting to see the doctor about their skin ailments. Plus, some of the old buzzards have been escorted to the joint by their spouse. Should the day arrive that the lovely Mrs. Sneed finds the need to accompany me to the doctor, I invite the world to use me for target practice. I suffer from a condition called Prurigo Nodularis, which is characterized by small hard knots that itch like a, and this is a medical term, sumabitch. The sufferer scratches at them, making matters worse. Helpful people point out that the situation would improve if the sufferer would just stop scratching. I like to tell people that they would sound less stupid if they would just stop talking. One guy asked me if I was contagious, while sheltering his lunch with his body. I pretended to count the days on my fingers, before announcing, "Not after tomorrow." For those who choose to Google Prurigo Nodularis, bear in mind that I don't look as bad as the people in the pictures. Those are severe cases. Dressed in a long-sleeved shirt and gloves, I look practically normal. Prurigo Nodularis is worse than acne, but definitely better than flesh-eating bacteria. The treatment for this disorder, at least in my case, is steroid injections directly into the sites and a topical steroid cream. This is as unpleasant as it sounds. I have been going for treatment for eleven months now and things are improving. Health authorities no longer advise people to cross the street when I approach them. I had an appointment with the dermatologist today. When I arrived and checked in, and rather than sitting among the living dead, I stood against the wall by the door, pretending I wasn't one of them. I occupied myself, by studying the faces and playing a little game I'll call, "He's way older than me". The lone non-geriatric present was a teenage girl who came in right after me. I thought I might sidle over say something like, "What's up with all the old folks?" But her mom, at woman 15 years my junior, might have mistaken my intentions and called the authorities. One thing worse than being in the dermatologist's office, is being dragged from it, with a raincoat tossed over your head. So, the doctor commented on the improvement in my skin problem, shot my right arm up with a million little steroid injections and made some small talk. I have a lab appointment for tomorrow, and then I get to do it all over again next month. Tomorrow is that command meeting in Phoenix that we are being forced to attend. Regretfully, I have to go for a lab test on some of my lumps and will miss the meeting. Having this procedure on the same day as the mandatory meeting might seem suspicious to Randall Bing. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgemental and cranky Tag: Daily Life Personal Finance Humor

Bad Boys, Bad Boys, What Ya Gonnna Do?

All right, so I was wrong about the Oscar for Best Picture. I'm pretty sure that there were voting irregularities. My people are still in court arguing our case for an emergency stay of the award or something like that. Speaking of voting irregularities, is Al Gore's head getting bigger? And is it bigger than Jack Nicholson's head? The thing is gigantic. Inquiring minds want to know. While old Al was being beatified by voice acclaimation among the usual Hollywood suspects, the good folks at the Tennessee Center for Policy Research were busy pulling Al Gore's utility bills together. It seems like Al doesn't break a sweat while he does his important climate research, at least at home. Now don't get me wrong, I am not a global warming denier. I just prefer that the biggest preacher, not also be the biggest hog. Just saying. I am ticked off today and I may be having some sort of episode. One of my coworkers is off sick, the other is on vacation and people are driving me crazy at work over things these two have hosed up. Not even an excellent worker like myself can overcome the havoc caused by two determined knuckleheads, at least single-handedly. Few have tried and all have failed. And as is this wasn't enough grief for your mild manner pal (me) to handle, my bum son Cletus called my cell phone this afternoon to ask for $50 bucks, to...let me think now...oh yeah, buy diapers for his kid. The kid he claims isn't his. The children he admits to, are eight and six and long out of diapers. I'm guess that this was a huge lie, call it a hunch. I wish I knew how to get this guy out of my life, once and for all. He acts like he has short-term memory loss, because no amount of telling him no, will stop him from calling back the very next day, as though we never had the previous day's argument. Or maybe I am caught in the 99th circle of hell where my eternal punishment is to be badgered for cash by hoards of drug addicts. Our conversation today, like always, went like this: Him: Hi Dad. Me: Hello Cletus (Think Seinfeld, think "Hello, Newman"). Him: How are you? Me: Fine, you? Him: Good, good (he likes to repeat things). Silence Me: What do you want? Him: Uh, Yolanda (the bum girlfriend) is coming by at 6 pm and I need to take her to the store. Me: How does that affect me? Him: Can I borrow $50? Me: I am not the bank and stop saying "borrow" because you have never paid back a cent. Him: Uh, yeah. I am at work until six. Me: What? Him: I am doing what you said to do. Can I get $50? Me: What are you talking about? Where is your money? Him: I spent it doing what you said I should do. Me: What the hell are you talking about? Him: I spent my money taking care of things I am supposed to take care of. Me: If that was true you wouldn't be bugging me for money to take Yolanda to the store, which is a load of crap anyway. Him: That's what you want to believe. Me: You are up to something. Him: That's what you what to believe. I'm trying to do what you said to do. Me: You are being manipulative. Him: No you are manipulating me. Me: Goodbye. What I am accused of telling him to do is to pay the bum girlfriend child-support, which he doesn't do. Stay off drugs, which he doesn't do. Keep his word and meet his financial obligations, which, altogether now...HE DOESN'T DO! Libertarians, who think all drugs ought to be legal, should have to spend a bit of time with this bonehead. He will change your tune real fast. Merle. Evening update: Just got home from bowling. Cletus called my cell phone while I was there. Then I checked our home phone for messages and guess what? The lad is relentless. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgemental and cranky Tag: Daily Life Personal Finance Humor

All The News That Ain't

This is why child labor is overrated. This kid is just no good at vacuuming.




Here in the beautiful desert southwest, we are a bit confused about the time of day. Not so much here as elsewhere. Since we have clocks and watches we are fairly sure of the local time, but is New York two hours ahead or three? Is it the same time in Los Angeles as here or is it an hour behind? Every time we think those thoughts, we have to do some figuring.

The cave people running our state cling desperately to the notion that daylight savings time is for chumps. They may be correct, because the need for daylight savings time is far less important than once thought, but that is beside the point. We ought to get on board with the other states, so I can keep things straight.

The rationale for keeping Arizona off daylight savings time, is that certain parts of the state will stay light until after nine pm in the summer which, and I am not making this up, creates a hardship for drive-in movie operators. Seen one lately?

Anyway, I just switched my TV to ABC see what was up with the Academy Awards and to my horror, Barbara Walters was doing some pre-Oscar special. She solemnly shared that she would be interviewing four people involved in this year's Academy Awards who had taken a big risk with their career. I got goosebumps, then I changed the channel.

Movie actors seem to blur the line between playing a role and real life. As a result tonight's awards will be full of self-congratulatory crap about the difference they are making for mankind.

According to what I read, the Academy Awards begin at five-thirty pm, California time, so that the people in New York can see them at eight-thirty pm. So I did some quick figuring and I think they will begin at six-thirty my time, not that I will be watching all that much.

As if I didn't have enough trouble in my stinking life, Cletus our vagrant adoptive son has resurfaced and his badgering for money has resumed. Last weekend he called asking for eighty bucks to "make a deposit on an apartment". I told him that even in our fair city, no apartment could be had with an eighty dollar deposit. He called back Monday, forcing me to yell at him.

Yesterday, he called asking for a hundred bucks to "pay some bills". I said no, he badgered, I hung up on him. A few minutes ago he called again, same result. So, I guess he is back on drugs.

The Sneedlet and I went to the mall today, while the lovely Mrs. Sneed and Daughter Sneed went shopping. I ran into a friend that I haven't seen in a long time. He had his granddaughter at the mall playground too.

He was telling me that he is retiring from his job in order to be able to care for his parents, who are 93 and 84 years-old. I see this happening more and more, as people live longer and longer. They are lucky to have a son like him.

Merle.


Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgemental and cranky





Tag: Daily Life
Personal Finance
Humor

Best Picture

I think that I've read that tomorrow might be the Academy Awards ceremony. I thought that they held it in April, but I might be confusing it with the opening of the baseball season.

This year, as in previous years, the ceremony will be held at an undisclosed location, somewhere near Hollywood, CA.

Attendees at the 79th Academy Awards will assemble at the Marine Air Ground Task Force Training Command, Twentynine Palms, California, where they will be loaded on a C-5B Galaxy aircraft for the short flight to LAX. Once at LAX they will transfer to a fleet of chauffeur-drive Toyota Prisus's, supplied by your local Southern California Toyota dealers, for the trip to the undisclosed location, rumored to be the Kodak Theatre at the Hollywood & Highland Center®, and televised live by the ABC Television Network on February 25, 2007, at 5 p.m. PST, beginning with a half-hour red carpet arrivals segment, “The Road to the Oscars.”

We dispatched our blog intern, Stuie Knox to the Kodak Theatre at the Hollywood & Highland Center, to see what he could see. What he found was a number of people spray painting large statues gold and several vans from a place called Mark's Hollywood Carpets, Let Mark Floor You. A woman, who said that she used to be Joan Rivers had no comment on the ceremony and the security guard, Vernon Lantz, said, "I really can't say, if you know what I mean." We don't.

This year, as in years past, I haven't personally seen any of the pictures up for the awards and I can't identify most of the actors involved in the productions. That not withstanding, I am prepared to make my predictions in the category of Best Picture, based entirely on what I was able to glean from the Internet Movie Database.

The nominees are:

Babel - This picture apparently stars Mr. Angelina Jolie, a Sneed blog fav, which alone should push it to the top of our list. It is kind of long and intertwines several stories, which might make it hard for the average moviegoer to follow, I would imagine. Luckily, the opinion of the public doesn't count in the actual voting.

This picture is directed by Alejandro González Iñárritu, a Mexican chap and we know how Hollywood likes to pretend they are an inclusive bunch. This is an opportunity for them to show that they value Mexicans as more than housekeepers and gardeners. Mr. Alejandro González Iñárritu will be issued a large "I am a nominee" button so that Jack Nicholson doesn't tell him to bus his table or anything.

Babel is handicapped by the fact that two other recent films by foreign directors share it's name. Some members of the academy may become confused. We give this movie a 25% shot at the award.


The Departed This seems to be another long movie, but since I have heard of many of the actors, I imagine that it would be good. Reviews I've read say it involves the Irish Mafia, but unless my memory fails me, the mafia are Italian fellows. You think the research staff would check these things out.

As nearly as the Sneed blog researchers can tell, a Martin Scorsese film has never won a Best Picture award. Marty is also oh-for-five in the Best Director category, so the Academy may throw things his way this year. Or maybe not. We rate the chances of this movie winning at only 25%.

Letters from Iwo Jima Clint Eastwood has won Best Picture a couple of times so he may get tagged with being an Oscar hog, which the Academy hates.

On the other hand this film has an entirely Japanese cast and makes the important point that many people hate wars, regardless of their nationality. Hollywood has proven to be definitely in favor of everyone getting along, so a film that points out that war can be unplesant, rates high. Odds are three to one of this picture carrying the day.

Little Miss Sunshine - This appears to be a damn comedy and comedies don't win best picture. I thought this was a settled matter, but evidently not. The movie stars Greg Kinnear, a University of Arizona alumnus, so that has to be considered. Unfortunately, it also stars Alan Arkin, the man who stuck us with the tedious Adam Arkin, so that could hold back the movie's chances. Alan Arkin could have pushed his kid to become a CPA or a brick mason, but oh no, he let him get into the movies. It's a good thing I don't get to vote. We rate this pictures chances at only 5%.

The Queen - People hate the freaking royals, so that is a problem. Many people, in several countries adored Princess Diana because she was the anti-royal. Others admired her because of her work in pointing out that planting landmines all over the place and then going back to where you came from is a problem for the locals.

The movie evidently centers on the British government's efforts to cover up the Queen's gleeful reaction to the death of her former daughter-in-law. The Queen's spokesman used the phrases, "good" and "the bitch deserved it" in commenting on the tragedy.

On a positive note the Queen is portrayed by Helen Mirren, who you will recall as the voice of the caller Babette, in an episode of the tv show Frazier in 2004. She was also featured in the AARP monthly magazine's last issue.

We give The Queen a 10% likelihood of taking home the Oscar.

So there you have it. Our pick is Letters from Iwo Jima and if not that, then definitely one of the others.





Merle.





Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgemental and cranky


Tag: Daily Life
Personal Finance
Humor

It's Friday afternoon at 5:00 pm local time and I am waiting around for the furniture delivery guys to show up with the new bed. They said that it would be between 2pm and 6pm, so I guess they mean 6pm.

I solved yesterday's mystery about why the steers in the picture I took are wearing ear muffs. It turns out that it is really a heavy-duty receiver unit that they use to play soothing music for the steers. Studies have shown that the steers will run faster if they have been exposed to soothing music.

Okay that was a complete lie. I asked my friend Greg, a real rodeo guy, and he says that the ear muffs are really a brace to to keep the steer's horns from getting damaged when a cowboy jumps off a horse onto them and twists their heads. The steers would be better off if my story was the truth.

Here's something that bugs me. I hate it when charities ask me for money, especially when the ones I already give to ask for more.

My undeniable rule for life is, if you bug me for money you aren't getting any. Okay, that is also a lie. If you ask me for more money that I already gave you, you aren't getting it.

Take for example our local food bank. Each month my bank sends them a check and each month I get a letter from the food bank acknowledging my donation, and asking for more. Periodically, I also get a "Planned Giving" newsletter from them, inviting me to investigate how I can leave my money to them when I die. They genuinely believe that the possibility exists that I am willing the vast Sneed fortune to them. I am fairly sure that a gang of Sneed heirs would burn me in effigy and the food bank to the ground, should we choose to do that.

Then there is the Salvation Army. I appreciate the work they do, especially with people struggling with addiction, so I give to them each month. Every month I get a nice letter from Major Someone-or-Another asking for more money. It just irks me.

Also, there is the little matter of who has been selling my name to whom. If I knew for certain I would stop giving them money. We get solicitations from a bunch of organizations. Evidently, they exchange names with one another. I have several lifetime's supply of address labels from all the fine organizations who gave me a little gift in anticipation of my largess. Sorry to disappoint.

I get that charities have to ask and that past giving is the best predictor of future giving, but it still bothers me. My hangup, I suppose.

Hold on a minute please.

(crickets chirping)

I had to take a break there because the doorbell just rang. It only rang once, a solitary ding-dong, and by the time I crossed the thirty feet to the door, I could see one of my furniture delivery guys scrambling to get into the truck, and waving to driver to get moving. I had to go out in front and yell at them to stop. This must be how they make up time. Ring the bell and run like hell. Not that it mattered anyway.

They hauled the bed in and the foot board wouldn't attach to the rest of the bed because the holes were drilled wrong. This is a normal Sneed development. They had to take it back to the store and we await further developments.

As Rosanne Rosanna-Rosanna Danna always said, "If it's not one thing, it's another."

Merle.





Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgemental and cranky


Tag: Daily Life
Personal Finance
Humor

The Rodeo Parade

I am not sure why these steers have ear muffs on. It kind of reminds me of my office though.







The old cowhand from the Rio Grande







This week is rodeo week here in our fair city, as it has been since 1925. Our rodeo is called La Fiesta de los Vaqueros, which I guess would be the festival or celebration of the cowboys in English. All the usual suspects in the world of rodeo cowboying are here this week for the rodeo.

Among the events during rodeo week, is the rodeo parade, billed as the longest non-mechanized parade in the United States. All entries are required to be horse-drawn vehicles or riders on horseback. Each year two hundred thousand citizens of our fair city line the parade route to watch the procession of entries. The schools are closed, so probably three quarters of the audience is kids.

This morning we met Daughter Sneed and Sneedlet One at a mall parking lot, where we were able to catch the parade shuttle bus to the area where the parade concludes. The parking for the parade is limited and the traffic in the area is horrific before and after the event, so the city provides a shuttle service from the area malls and back. The round-trip fare is just a dollar.

We arrived at the finish area, bought seats in the grandstands and waited for the first entry to reach us. It was cold, but by the time the parade started it was warm and then uncomfortably warm.

The parade began and we were having a great time. About 20 minutes after it started, the procession simply stopped. After a minute or so the announcer said that it would resume shortly. The entries that had reach us continued on eventually disappearing from sight, with none replacing them. I got up from my seat and walked down the street to see what was going on.

Nothing was happening, no riders or wagons were in sight. However, after a minute or so, a wagon, loaded with people came down the block, turned and left the parade route. I assumed it had mechanical trouble and that it had been the reason for the stoppage. I waked back to where everyone was sitting and reported what I thought I knew.

Eventually, things began to move again and by the end of the parade we were glad it was over. My perception is that parades are usually about one-third too long. When they say that our parade is the longest non-mechanized parade in the country, they mean it.

On the bus ride back to the mall I called my friend Greg, who rode his horse in the parade, to see if he saw us yelling at him as he passed by. He didn't immediately answer my question, but instead asked me if I had heard about the accident. He told me that a child riding in the parade had been killed by one of the horses. Greg was clearly upset.

The little girl killed in the accident was from the community of Sonoita, AZ. Sonoita is in an area of high grassland, about 5000 feet in elevation, located just north of the Mexican border. Many children there are as accustomed to horseback as children in cul-de-sac are to their bikes. It is a way of life to them.

The child was riding a horse in the parade and the accident occurred when a wagon drawn by a team of horses, collided with her. She was thrown and trampled. She was five-years old and must have been so excited to be able to participate in the parade.

Almost immediately blame reared its head.

In moments like this people point fingers and lots of folks proclaim themselves experts on who should have done what to prevent the accident. People looking in at the situation feel indignation and rage and think they know exactly who is at fault. It is our nature to express our anger by lashing out I suppose.

People caught inside this tragedy feel emotions that no one should ever have to experience, and that no one on the outside can understand, believe me, the Sneeds know. The principals in this tragedy don't need the recriminations of outsiders to identify what they could have done differently, they know full well.

Tonight the controversy centers on the child's age and her fitness to be riding alone in a parade. She was in a group of family and friends, but alone on a large animal, a large skittish animal. The regulations for the parade barred riders under eight, but that age limit is simply arbitrary. An eight, twelve or twenty year-old rider is no match for the mass of a 1500 pound horse. Watch any rodeo and you will see that trampling is always a cowboy's worst fear.

Mom and Dad brought their little cowgirl to the parade, expecting an experience they would always remember. These were experienced horse people, not cowboys for a day. I'm sure that the parade committee wanted this to be the best parade ever, one that they would never forget. Now, no one can forget, no matter how desperately they wish they could.

Sometimes terrible things happen to people just trying their best and no amount of wouldas, couldas or shouldas will change a thing.

Merle

















Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgemental and cranky


Tag: Daily Life
Personal Finance
Humor

You Had To Be There

Sometimes I think I am a funny guy. Sometimes I am the only person in the world who thinks so. Today could be the latter.

I was sitting in my cubicle today, working away, when the company news site popped up on my computer screen with today's important announcements. These are generally from the "ask not what the company can do for you, but what you can do for the company" variety of ideas. I mostly don't get past reading the headlines, but one caught my eye.

Item number one was about saving money by using the company conferencing service rather than traveling for meetings. You all know how I feel about this issue and since the big boss has commanded that we all appear in antoher city one day next week for his big pow wow, it struck me as a bit nonsensical.

My boss Randall Bing is away from the office this week on business, so I couldn't harangue him about it in person. I got this bright idea to send an email copy of the notice to him, along with a note telling him that I had also sent it to Mr. Big Boss. Randall is a chain-of-command kind of guy, so I figured he would get a kick out of this and see it for the sarcasm that it was.

The chain of command from bottom to top is me, Randall, His Boss, Big Boss, Bigger Boss, and the Boss of Bosses, our President.

After a bit, Randall emailed back, thanking me for warning him, because as we all know, stuff rolls downhill.

I thought about his response, trying to gauge whether he knew I was kidding him or not and finally decided to send another email telling him I was just joking.

After another bit, Randall emailed me back to tell me that he had already warned his boss, in case Mr. Big Boss was offended and decided to roll things down the hill. He suggested that I should let his boss know that it was just a joke.

Now my dilemma was, is he kidding me? I decided that he must be and sent another email telling him I wasn't falling for that trick. We'll see.

I'm reminded of something that happened to my best friend's father when we were in high school. When I was a senior in high school my parents were forty-four years old. My friend's parents were older and his father retired that year, 1968. He was just fifty-six but they had money so he was free to do as he pleased. What he chose to do was mostly nothing.

Every morning my friend's parents would get up, eat breakfast, do a few chores and then, about ten in the morning, they would retire to their respective recliners and watch soap operas and the midday news while they ate lunch. Then, if need be, they would go out and do some shopping. This was their routine day after day. My friend's father also prided himself on being a funny guy and for the most part he was.

One morning the phone rang and it was a woman asking if they had any items that a particular charity could pick up when the truck came around. This interruption of his soap opera watching annoyed him, so rather than simply saying no and hanging up, my friend's dad decided to tell the woman that he couldn't talk to her and that it was imperative that she hang up, because the house was on fire. They both hung up the phone and he went back to watching television.

The poor woman on the other end of the line, thinking that there was a fire, decided that she should call it in just in case no one else did.

A short time later my friend's father noticed sirens that seemed to get louder, until they sounded as if they were in front of the house, which of course, they were. There was a pounding at the door and the place quickly filled with firemen and the police. He was threatened with arrest for making a false report.

So I guess the moral of both stories is, that even the funniest guys in the world are not so funny once in awhile.





Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgemental and cranky


Tag: Daily Life
Personal Finance
Humor

Home, Sweet Home

This picture has nothing to do with today's rant, but I like it.










First things first. I would like to acknowledge and tip my hat to visitor PCarey who left a very thoughtful comment about my humble blog. He or she remarked that he or she enjoys the blog and this is a key point here, thinks I am funny. People, this is the sort of visitor we at the Sneed blog are looking for. Many of you could bump up your next blog-reader evaluation by being a bit more like PCarey. Just saying.

Perhaps you've had this experience. A friend says something that is so blatantly stupid and says it so proudly, that you cannot offer the correct response, which would be, "That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard of." Or in the alternative I have always been fond of, "Are you on crack?"

Many of you wouldn't say that because you are kind and caring. As for me, my silence was out of a sense of self-preservation, not kindness. The fellow who shared the stink-bomb with me is both big and ill-tempered. So I smiled and nodded, while thinking "S-T-U-P-I-D".

My friend has been offered a new job, for more money. He and his spouse plan on using this new job and the corresponding raise in pay, as an excuse to upgrade their current home, by buying a swanky new one. So far, so good, I guess.

My friend's incredibly bad idea is to keep his current house as a rental. Landloarding in and of itself is hard, but the kicker is that he intends to cash out his retirement plan at the current job when he leaves and pay off this house. Then he figures that he will collect the rental income to help offset the higher payment at the new digs. Many people believe that being a landlord means walking to the mailbox to collect the rent check. Huge mistake in thinking there.

The problem is that he either hasn't thought this through or simply can't do math. If you cash out retirement funds and you are less than fifty-nine and a half years old, you pay a ten percent penalty and plus your regular income taxes on the whole amount. If he needed a hundred thousand to pay off the house, he has to spend a hundred and forty thousand to get it. Then there is the matter of having drained out the retirement funds and having to start over with the new job.

Oh yeah, and who will the tenant be in this train wreck scenario? His adult child and family, who and I am quoting here, "Can't get a house on their own". So my friend is imperiling his retirement and pinning his hopes on the kid and family to make good on the rent. This has the potential to really mess up future holidays in this family.

Everyone who knows me, knows that I am all about not living in a van down by the river and eating kibble in my old age, so this just creeps me out. Hopefully, he will rethink this bad idea. One thing for sure, I am not telling him it is a dumb idea because I bruise easily.

And finally, there's this. I just got an email from the fine folks at ProFlowers.com. You may recall that my Valentine flower order for both the lovely Mrs. Sneed and Daughter Sneed failed to arrive, possibly due to bad weather somewhere.This is the opening paragraph of the email.

'The Art of Fresher Flowers' is not just a motto, it's our mission. That's why we want to take this opportunity to offer our most sincere apologies that the bouquet you sent did not meet your standards - or ours. Our goal is to ensure every last bud, leaf, and stem is delivered just-picked-this-moment fresh, and while mistakes will occur with such a fragile and perishable product, we very much regret that we failed to live up to your expectations.

I guess, not showing up would be a failure to meet my expectations, but I have to wonder if they have any handle on what is going on over there.

Merle.









Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgemental and cranky


Tag: Daily Life
Personal Finance
Humor

You Get What You Take

Some things I just learn the hard way. I decided that it would be really cool to add a clock to my blog. I didn't have a good reason to add a clock, it just sounded cool. Big mistake. A good rule for successful blogging is don't mess with the template if you don't know anything about HTML.

The lovely Mrs. Sneed and I were talking one day recently about a Dr. Phil-ism. Now I can take or leave Dr. Phi, but he has this saying that goes something like, "You teach people how to treat you." That is so true.

I was thinking about that today when I got a call from an annoyed customer. He was annoyed because someone in my office promised me and I, in turn, promised this customer that my coworker would meet him today. Of course, the coworker didn't show up and the guy was upset.

When I went to my coworker's desk to ask why he didn't keep his commitment, he was unapologetic. He was simply not bothered. Since Randall Bing, our boss, has not made it clear that this is unacceptable, it will continue.

Here's another variation on that theme. Over the weekend we received a portion of our new bedroom furniture. Someone from the store called to say one piece didn't arrive as scheduled, but that they were delivering the balance on Saturday. Then they called back to say it had arrived after all, but too late to make our delivery. I was told that I could come down and pick it up, but of course it wasn't really there when I arrived.

The people at the store were patient in explaining that I had misunderstood them when they said come and pick it up. We went through the various stages of bad customer service.

Deny that it happened, blame it on someone else, sympathize with the customer's situation, reiterate that nothing can be done, dismiss the annoying customer.

It seems to me that too many people accept crappy service, suffering it in silence. Longtime readers of my humble blog know that I do not accept crappy service silently. Sometimes I may be something of a jackass, but if no one pitches a fit, they get the idea that close enough, is close enough.

Just my thoughts anyway.

Merle.






Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgemental and cranky


Tag: Daily Life
Personal Finance
Humor

Sunday

Is this a good-looking guy or what?(Notice the flowers)

I love my little blog. Today alone I have had visitors from Croatia, Eygpt, Canada, Australia, Peru, Italy and the United States. Rarely has a guy said so little, to so many.

I have had an inordinately high number of visitors today. Many have come from some sort of forum for people involved in the floral trade. I went to the forum to see what was being said, but it is by invitation only. I guess my tirade about Proflowers.com resonated with them.

Well, the city bowling tournament wrapped up this morning. If you had "complete and utter humiliation" in the Sneed offical tournament bowling pool, please contact me and I will send along your lovely prize. I was an embarrassment. The only redeeming feature was that today's event was at a bowling establishment near Casa Sneed, so at least I didn't have to travel far to suck big time.

I see in the papers today that Britney Spears has shaved her head bald. Plus she seems to have had a case of 24-hour substance abuse. It must have been the one day variety, because that is how long she lasted in rehab. Is it me or is the girl getting freakier as she gets older? You may recall that one of my predictions for 2007 was that Britney would behave badly this year. I am thinking of starting one of those psychic phone hotlines.

Speaking of which, I was also reading today that Americans have a better science understanding than they did twenty years ago. Unfortunately, they also believe in more pseudoscience, like astrology or alternative medicine. Women are far more likely to believe in things that are pseusdoscientific, than are men. This is a statement about power not about relative intelligence.

I had a college instructor once who said that religion survives because of the participation of women and specifically poor and powerless women. The less power people feel, the more they look to extra-worldly things for relief. I suspect that the disparity in the belief in things like astrology have the same roots.

When people decry the demise of organized religion in our society, it is more a function of our rising affluence and equality, than of a loss of values. Just my thinking anyway.

Lastly, someone commented the other day that she was surprised that anyone got a bonus at work anymore. I have to say that for all the bellyaching I do about Tedious Systems, my employer, they are generous with the pay. I have lots of complaints about them, but money isn't one of them.

Merle.


Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgemental and cranky


Tag: Daily Life
Personal Finance
Humor

Definitely Among The Most Average

I had the best of intentions with respect to posting something yesterday, but then things just got away from me. I came home from work and had to empty the dishwasher, vacuum and mop the kitchen floor. Then the lovely Mrs. Sneed came home and we went out, so whatcha gonna do. I went to a management seminar one time where a guy shared this thought. Ninety percent of what you worry over, will never happen. Of the remaining ten percent that does happen, ninety percent of that won't be as bad as you thought it would be. So you are agonizing over a one percent possibility and that isn't worth the bother. That, ladies and gentlemen, is the story of my life, right there. So, I guess I am going to have to stop calling ProFlowers.com, NoFlowers.com. This may be premature, but it seems as though they are not charging me for the flowers that they didn't deliver on Wednesday, as promised. Daughter Sneed received her flowers yesterday afternoon. I am cautiously optimistic that they have cancelled billing and have a strong hint from my debit card activity that they have. The funds they were holding, pending their actual debit, have been released. ProFlowers.com has not notified me that they are not billing me, but maybe they are just modest and want to do the right thing without fanfare. I also had my sit-down with Randall "Bada" Bing yesterday. That too, went better than I expected. I don't like to brag or anything, but he says that among the average performing employees, I am definitely above average. When Randall took me into the conference room, the first thing he said was, "I am getting a bad vibe from you about this." Like most performance evaluations, he evaluated me based upon his feelings and perceptions, not many real facts. So when he admitted that he he was having a hard time coming up with objective data to rate me, I helped him out. I told him what I would have told him earlier, had he involved me in the evaluation process. He was making some notes, so I think it was useful to say. When we reached the point where he had run out of ways to explain his perception of my mediocrity, he made the mistake of asking if I had anything for him. The moment I had been planning for lo these many weeks. I got to spend about twenty minutes telling him about how he could be a more effective leader and how I would do things differently. All kidding aside, I have education, training, and experience as a manager of large work groups, so I have something constructive to offer, if a fellow is inclined to listen. It was a frank and fun discussion to have. I have to go to a bowling tournament today. I bowl in the city and statewide bowling tournaments on a team called The Brothers. The age range of the members is from fifty to about seventy. The team is called The Brothers because it was originally made up of five black men. Somewhere along the line, someone dropped out and they decided to go the affirmative action route and add me, the brother from another mother. Every year, some clueless jackass points out that The Brothers team has the whitest man in America on it. I always tell them that Four Brothers and Whitey won't fit on the scoresheet. Merle. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgemental and cranky Tag: Daily Life Personal Finance Humor

Completely Satisfactory, Pretty Sweet

Well, NoFlowers.com has fulfilled one half of my flower order. The lovely Mrs. Sneed's roses arrived today. So, better late than never I guess.

I sent an email yesterday to the customer service department at NoFlowers.com explaining my experience of their service this Valentine's Day. I'm sure they use this type of feedback to fine tune their processes. Either that or as joke material for intraoffice emails. I wondered, in my email, why no once called or emailed to tell me that they weren't fulfilling my order as promised. The following is their reply, word for word.

Our apologies regarding your orders that were placed. Its unfortunate we could not make the delivery for your holiday order. Let us know if you have any other concerns regarding your refund or replacement orders.

That may be the worst customer service response I have ever read. "Screw you", would have taken fewer words.

I had occasion today to attend a meeting with some fellows from the government of the United States of America. I cannot disclose many of the details, but suffice to say it was the tightest security I have ever seen. We were left standing outside the place for 45 minutes while our credentials were checked, our company issued vehicle, complete with giant logo on each side, was searched inch by agonizing inch by large young men with very big handguns strapped to their belts. Finally, I was made to drive the truck through a big building-sized scanner thingy, before I was issued a clearance card that I had to exchange with another guard at a gate before I was allowed to drive in.

The meeting, like most of the meetings that I am compelled to attend, was not that useful. It was a pre-pre-pre-preliminary meeeting for a project that may start in 2008, if everything goes smoothly. I doubt that it will, it is after all a government job.

What this activity did allow me to do was to exchange some ideas about personal finance with the young guy I had to drag along with me. This lad fancies himself to be a financial sophisticate. You be the judge.

He told me that he has a six-year, 1.9% car loan, so that the payments would be really small. He bragged that he pays almost no interest. I am guessing after he pays for six years on this car, the car will need replacing, and that he will have to start over again, but who knows?

He also advisd me to open a home equity line of credit (HELOC) against my house so that I would have access to some emergency cash if needed. I asked him what happens if a person loses his job after he gets the HELOC. He says that he would borrow against the HELOC to make his house payments. Let's see, borrow against the house to make the house payments. I prefer to have my emergency cash in the form actual cash, the kind you save from your pay and keep for yourself, but again, maybe I'm missing something.

Another of his ideas is to buy stuff on no-interest, no-payments for say 12 months and then only make the minimum payments until the end, when you pay off the big balance. In the mean time, you stash the excess in a bank account until you need it. Did he realize that 80% of the time people don't payoff no-interest, no-payments within the prescribed time? Yes he did, but this doesn't apply to him, he says. Maybe he's right, afterall there is a 20% chance he is.

He had other ideas about adjustable mortgages and refinancing, but I had lost interrest by then.

It seems to me that too many folks are trying to get rich easy and quick. Getting to be rich is smple, but it is not easy. It takes some sacrifice over a long period of time. My young friend is not mature enough yet to realize it.

On the Randall "Bada" Bing front, he finally realized that the performance evaluations wouldn't be done in time to meet today's deadline and he decided to just tell us what our bonuses would be, sans the evaluations. He crossed me up by giving me my whole bonus and then telling me that he considered me "completely satisfactory". Wow, I wish my folks were here to share this moment with me.

I remember overhearing my dad say to my mom, "That boy isn't going to amount to a pile of crap." Mom, always partial to her little Merle, replied, "Oh, he will fit in somewhere and get by. He's a survivor."

Well, by golly, she was right. I fit in, I fit right in! The evaluation session tomorrow is going to be fun.

Merle.



Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgemental and cranky


Tag: Daily Life
Personal Finance
Humor

Another Reason To Hate Valentine's Day

Except for the incompetents at ProFlowers.com, the Lovely Mrs. and Daughter Sneed would be enjoying these now.



















As I may have mentioned yesterday, I am not a big fan of Valentine's Day. Come to think of it, I was not explicit in saying I hate it but I gave plenty of hints.

Well, being the caring and kind guy I am, without any fanfare at all, I ordered flowers for both the lovely Mrs. Sneed and Daughter Sneed for Valentine's Day and arranged for the flowers to be delivered to their respective homes. This is an important point, flowers ought never to be delievered to the receipients place of business, uless that place of business also happens to be home, sweet home. Just my opinion.

Then I anxiously waited all day for the happy receipents to call and profess their delight. I got no calls.

Your are probably saying to yourself, "Those ungrateful (bleeps), how could they snub poor Merle Sneed like that? Afterall, he is kind and caring. Good question, but hold your indignation and prepare to redirect it.

I ordered the flowers from ProFlowers.com (a.k.a. NoFlowers.com), who you may have heard of on the radio. They promise fresh cut flowers directly from the grower, at a resonable price. Normally, I like to buy from the local people when I can, but our neighborhood florist is a raving lunatic, whom I refuse to trade with.

NoFlowers.com seized on the holiday rush to stick it to the consumer by charging extra for delivery on Valentine's Day itself. Not because it costs them more, but because they can get away with it. So, I ponied up an extra $20 or so to get the deliveries today.

This evening when I came home and there were no flowers I was miffed. I checked NoFlowers.com's website and saw that certain parts of the country were experiencing bad weather and some deliveries were delayed. The site gave a tracking number for the package and instructions to check the UPS website for a delivery status. When I checked with UPS I found that they couldn't deliver them, because the morons at NoFlowers.com never had them picked up.

I was finally able to get someone at NoFlowers.com who apologized for not sending out my shipments and promised to do so tomorrow, which you may already know, isn't Valentine's Day. She did agree to refund all the delivery charges, although that seems like an inadequate gesture to me.

What really ticks me off about these guys is that in the days since I ordered these flowers, I have received several emails from them, status reports, exciting offers, etc. But they couldn't be bothered to tell me that the flowers weren't coming. The representtive said that they would send them as soon as they could. Jackasses.

In other news Randall Bing reapppeared this afternoon, so I expect tommorow will be the big evaluation day. I can't wait.

Merle.

Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgemental and cranky


Tag: Daily Life
Personal Finance
Humor

The Old Cowhand, From The Rio Grande

Tom and Ken Chilton, a couple of real cowboys

Photo by A.E. Araiza,
The Arizona Daily Star

Sometimes I amaze myself. I read this headline today.
Study: On-the-job naps might help heart. Not to brag or anything but I have been extolling the virtues of cubicle napping for some time now, so it is nice to be validated.

You know, if you live in the great American southwest most of your life, you learn to recognize a real cowboy when you see one. I'm not talking about the local car dealer dressed up in his cowboy get-up, but a real cowpoke. In southern Arizona where we live there are still quite a few ranchers living the cowboy way. In fact I saw a bunch of them earlier, just not where I expected that they would be.

I stopped at my usual Circle K on the way home today to get a Diet Coke and exchange my scratch lottery winner for a new ticket. I am very close to winning big money in the state lottery, but that's another story.

This Circle K is in a pretty tough area, about a mile from Casa Sneed. Our neighborhood is a little enclave, tucked in among quite a bit of seediness. We are more of less in the geographic center of a metro area of a million people, so you can imagine what I mean.

As I left the Circle K and walked to my truck, a limo pulled into the parking lot which the Circle K shares with one of our many fine nudie bars. The driver jumped out of his limo, opened the back door and a parade of old cowboys began to climb out. There were about ten of them, the youngest of whom I judged to be about 60 years-old. Why they were headed to a nudie bar in a limo baffles me. Maybe a birthday party?

Of course, I don't get the whole nudie bar attraction. As a nearly 60 year-old guy myself (is that possible?) I really don't get it. I see the girls from the nudie bar at the Circle K from time to time and I have two words to describe them, Skank Eee.

On the Randall "Bada" Bing front there is no news. He has left word that he will be doing our evaluations on Thursday. Good luck with that, he has 20 left to do. At least my meaningless evaluation won't be a long dragged-out affair. Sort of corporate speed-dating.

Also, the lovely Mrs. Sneed and I just came back from the grocery store where Valentine's Day preparations are in full swing. Many fine gift ideas were on display. I'm wondering who gives their loved one a dozen pink grocery store cupcakes? Or the, and I am not making this up, polyester rose arrangement? They did have a fine assortment of mylar balloons to choose from. I love Valentine's Day because it gives me the opportunity to use the word garish.

Speaking of Valentine's Day, our building will be crammed full of tasteless tributes tomorrow. Dozens of clueless dopes will send a variety tacky of crap to the object of their love, or at least lust, and I will have to witness it. Yuck.

If the lovely Mrs. Sneed were ever to be struck down by a falling object, only to awaken and believe she was actually Minnie Pearl, thus sending me a giant balloon bouquet at work, I would have to kill myself. Fortunately, like most folks, the lovely Mrs. Sneed isn't that crazy about me.

And finally, know I vowed to maintain silence on the matter of Anna Nicole Smith but I cannot let this pass without comment. Another lying liar says that he may be the baby's father. This time it is one of her bodyguards. How many men was she sleeping with? I'm beginning to think she might have been a little crazy.

Merle.






Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgemental and cranky


Tag: Daily Life
Personal Finance
Humor

You Are All Below Average

Yeah, we may have to whack Sneed.

Well, the "bonus watch" down at Tedious Systems continues. Our boss, Randall "Bada" Bing is dragging out the notifications because he can. Since we are getting the checks on Friday, he probably ought to hurry every chance he gets.

For some time now I have been working on not getting all in a dither over stuff, but in this case it isn't working and I am getting ticked off at his delays. He will also be giving us our yearly evaluations, along with our bonus notifications. In the fantastic scenario that is running in my mind, things go badly...for me. Just say the last line of the senario is, You can't fire me, I quit!

Work performance evaluations are generally a waste of time. Over the past thirty-eight years I have had all sorts of them, mostly good, one or two bad, but they all share one thing, they were fairly meaningless, because for the most part bosses are too lazy to really know what the little folks are up to.

Now don't get me wrong here. By good and bad evaluations, I mean the boss mostly thought I was doing okay, not that the evaluations were done in a way that provided any useful information.

The first evaluation I can remember actually had a score for personal appearance. I got a below average. This old hillbilly from Dothan, Alabama, told me my appearance was below average. I stared at his white patent leather shoes in stunned silence. If they didn't like ugly, they shouldn't have hired me in the first place. Besides I am not sure what I was supposed to do about it.

My all time favorite evaluation was the year when the boss actually lined us up and told the first person she was outstanding, the next that she was more than satisfactory and told the rest of us that we were satisfactory. Then he said, "Write yourselves up." That was the whole process. I am not making that up.

These past few years my boss, now retired, would ask us for our input, write the evaluation and then review it with us in detail. She made an effort and was definitely more serious about the evaluations than most, even though she didn't think I was quite as swell as I did.

"Bada" Bing, on the other hand is pulling these evaluations directly out of his butt. He set no goals, didn't measure any results, as nearly as I can tell and didn't ask us for our input. These are strictly his opinion, which any HR person will tell you is not the best indicator of reality.

The best part of being an old crank is that I can make unlimited trouble over this, should it go against me. So I have started working on the first draft of my indignant letter to the higher-ups.


Merle.


Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgemental and cranky


Tag: Daily Life
Personal Finance
Humor

Grass, grass and more grass

I'm done talking about Anna Nicole Smith. Anything I have left to say will be reserved for the court battle that looms.

We celebrated Older Son Sneed's thirty-fourth birthday this morning by meeting for breakfast. As usual, it was very pleasant. We are so proud of Older Son Sneed.

Now for something that is not pleasant at all. That is Bermuda grass, which is not native to Bermuda, but that is another story.

We live in the desert but the dumb asses who move here insist upon planting grass. Let's review the benefits of non-native grasses. They use precious water, require cutting and trimming, they compete for resources and crowd out native plants. Apart from that they are very desirable. Additionally, most of the aforementioned dumb asses don't take proper care of their lawn, so their grass turns into a browned-out mess. Plus, Bermuda puts out runners and winds up where it doesn't belong, usually someone else's yard. Which brings me to my point, which isn't about idiots who plant grass, but rather about some grass which has invaded my yard in another way.

I spent four hours today, pulling up grass from the side of our house where it has taken up root. This grass belongs to the woman who used to live across the street and I would love to give it back but she moved away or rather was carted away.

Our former neighbor was a mental patient, who someone wrongly decided could live independently. I don't recall how many years she lived across the way, but it was always tumultuous. She had a trust fund and good-for-nothing live-in boyfriend who stayed as long as he could ride the gravy train. When her mental health woes got really out of control, he bugged out, only to return when things calmed down.

During the time she lived across from us there were several major incidents involving her delusions. Once we had the SWAT team surround her house and drag her out, because she barricaded herself in and they feared she might harm herself or others.

Another time she destroyed everything in the house that was electrical because she believed that they emitted rays that messed with her mind. Once she came over at midnight to complain that our computer was sending out annoying rays and bothering her dog. She once took the hose and washed down the inside of her house.

The thing that finally got her locked up for good was when she went to the bank down the street and pulled the electrical wiring out of some woman's car. When the woman objected to the destruction of her car, our neighbor beat the crap out of her.

For some reason she kept parrots, giant parrots and plenty of them. When she cleaned their cages, it was her habit to throw the debris, including seeds of all sorts in the front yard. Her yard was soon crawling with grasses and ours shortly after that.

So, while the old gal is locked up somewhere, having fights with the people there and some who are not really there, her gift to us just keeps on giving.



Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgemental and cranky


Tag: Daily Life
Personal Finance
Humor

Oky, I'm In

Update: Sorry for the many typos that appeared in earlier versions of this post. I was interupted in mid-edit by an urgent call from my attorney, Lex Vermillion, asking that I come down to the office asap to sign some court papers related to this matter and I had to rush off.

The lying sister


I had a big announcement to make today but that media-hog Barack Obama had to step all over it, announcing his candidacy for president. Well, excuse me Barack, but move the hell over.

The following is the text of an announcement I had planned for later this morning had not certain people stole my thunder. The press conference has been cancelled and the statement will be issued to all news reporting outlets by blog intern Stuie Knox.

URGENT - For immediate release - 1100 GMT (-7h), Our Fair City, AZ

Distinguished invited guests, members of the media and ladies and gentlemen of the public, I appreciate you gathering with Stuie and me this morning. I have an important announcement to make but first I want to share a few preparatory thoughts.

These past few days have been a difficult time for the MerleSneed blog family. As you know Anna Nicole Smith passed away a few days ago. Gosh, has it been only a few days, it seems an eternity?

During this time of grief, opportunists have emerged, claiming to be the father of Anna Nicole's newborn child. These include that lying liar Larry Birkhead, the predatory, Howard K.(not the radio guy) Stern and the nut job Prince Zsa Zsa Garbor's husband. This morning I'm sadden to report that Anna Nicole's skank half-sister is claiming that the child is a product of the dead guy's frozen semen. Liars, one and all.

Stuie Knox and I first met Anna Nicole in the early 1990s while we were on a fact-finding trip in the greater Houston, Texas area. We encountered Anna Nicole, who identified herself as Peaches in those days, at a place called Gigi's, which Stuie assured me was a French restaurant, although it turned out to be a nudie bar. These things happen.

During several private sessions with Peaches, Stuie and I discovered that Peaches shared our passion for astral travel. Peaches was very interested in deepening her knowledge and asked us if we were affiliated with or subscribed to any particular formal group of like-minded thinkers. We introduced her to Deensism. You can learn a bit about Deensism here. I cannot go into the details of these sessions as they are private religious matters that must be kept secret from everyone except 7th-level travelers, which is none of you

Over the years, Stuie, Anna Nicole and I have met on hundreds of occasions in the other dimensions. Mostly, we spent time reflecting on matters of existence and deepening our understanding of the mysteries of Deensism. But there was more too.

One time, quite recently, Stuie had a bad case of the runs and wasn't up to stepping out, so Anna Nicole and I were on our own. I will not sully her memory by relaying the details of our encounter, but let's just say it was more fun without Stuie tagging along. Besides, Deensism is murky on the whole afterlife thing, so she may be lurking around waiting to scare the pants off me (figuratively speaking, that is), so I'll just keep it to myself.

So today, I throw my hat into the ring and claim fathership of the child born to Peaches, er Anna Nicole. I proclaim that the baby was conceived by us in another dimension and time. I wish to raise her and promise to guard her trust funds as though they were my own.

Thank you for coming here today. Stuie is available to answer questions.

M. Sneed.









Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgemental and cranky


Tag: Daily Life
Personal Finance
Humor

I Coulda Been A Contender

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Death Of A Would-Be Starlet

The MerleSneed blog was saddened today to learn of the passing of Sneed blog favorite, Anna Nicole Smith, the Rose of Mexia, Texas.

Watching Ms. Smith was like watching a train wreck and provided a lesson that no amount of notoriety or money can keep the determined person from screwing up her life.

Many people unfairly criticized our Anna Nicole, accusing her of marrying for money. I remain unconvinced that she did. Many 26-year-old gals marry 90-year-old men, Anna Nicole can hardly be blamed that the apple of her eye just happened to be a billionaire. In fairness J. Howard Marshall, Anna's squeeze was only 89, so the naysayers ought to back off on the charge that she was too young to marry him.

Recently, Anna Nicole was accused of drug and alcohol abuse, and a gold digger has emerged to claim that he is the real father of her newborn. Some people will do or say anything for money. All the allegations remain just that.

Goodbye sweet Anna, your flame flickered out too soon, unlike my hair, which seems to be on fire.

In other news Tedious Systems, my employer, announced today that the employees will be receiving a bonus for their heroic efforts in making the company a leader in the field of internal process redundancy during 2006.

The way this works is that there is a bonus amount based upon our salary times a payout percentage. They made the mistake of publishing that payout percentage, so I know exactly what my target amount is. The boss then has a pool of bonus money equal to the the number of employees times the payout percentage times their salary. He or she has the discretion of reducing or increasing an individual's bonus by twenty percent, so long as all the money is distributed.

I am confident that my boss, the eminently fair and quite hunky, Randall Bing, will reward us commensurate with our individual contribution. What do I smell, burning? Oh crap, my hair's on fire again!

Anyway we have a couple of world-class brown-nosers in the office and I fear a portion of my share of the loot could be skimmed off by these two smooth-talking knuckleheads. Should this happen I have concocted an elaborate scenario that culminates in my indignant resignation, but only after I throw a hissyfit that will be the stuff of Tedious Systems folklore.

For the moment, I await further developments.

Merle.

Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgemental and cranky


Tag: Daily Life
Personal Finance
Humor

Who You Gonna Call?

A veteran member of the blogging community passed on a tip for successful posting to me today. Don't put your boss's name in your blog. Since they are mostly egomaniacs, there is a high likelihood that he or she will Google themselves and out you. Good advice.

Henceforth, my boss, Kendall Ling will be referred to as Randall Bing, so that he won't know I am talking about him. Plus anytime I say something disingenuous in order to cover my tracks, I will include the phrase, my hair is on fire, so that you will be wise to my ruse, and understand that I am spouting a load of bulls**t.

Just for the record, Randall Bing is nowhere near the buffoon I portray him to be. In fact, he is a dynamic leader, a cheerful fellow, eminently reasonable and quite a hunky guy to boot. My hair is on fire.

Speaking of hunky guys, Merle Sneed's favorite disgraced evangelist is back in the news. Former Pastor Ted Haggard, hypocrite and intolerant blowhard, has emerged from the hole he has been hiding in to proclaim that he is now "completely straight".

After three weeks of "intense counselling" by four ministers, the Rev. Tim Ralph said, "He (Haggard) is completely heterosexual". This of course, is as improbable as Yao Ming emerging from three weeks of intense counselling to declare that he is now "completely short".

The conversion is rumored to have been accomplished through physical and emotional techniques, including beatings, sleep-deprivation and a regime of non-stop loops of reruns of Happy Days.

"It was touch and go there for a while", said Pastor Bob Roberts, founder of the Christian Outreach program, Gay Busters, Who ya gonna call?, "but when we put on the Best of Celine Dion, volume IV CD, old Satan, who had assumed the personae of Liberace, just lit out and Pastor Ted kind of collapsed."

"I looked at my team and said, boys we got the gay out of this sucker, can I get an amen?"

Well, all this sort of confused my blog intern Stuie Knox and me. I guess we didn't appreciate the danger we faced, from inadvertent homosexuality, drug use and consorting with prostitutes brought on the Satan himself.

Fortunately, it turns out that Gay Busters has a screening tool to identify what their literature calls, deviant behavior of this sort, or as Pastor Bob Roberts characterized it, your disgustin' homasexal tendencies. His advice was to get tested early and often.

"El Diablo will jump you when your let your guard down. One day you're riding high and the next you're getting high in a sleazy motel with the Prince of Darkness hisself, posing as a male prostitute. And that's the God's honest truth, friend, I've seen it happen with my own eyes."

We needed to act and act fast.

This morning Stuie and I faxed our questionnaires, a short essay on the subject of what power tools mean to me, and a photo (head shot preferred) to Pastor Bob Roberts his for assessment. We had to provide a credit card number for the $35 assessment fee ($30 for groups of six or more) and $15 expedite fee.

This afternoon I received this fine looking certificate, suitable for framing, via fax. I am also going to get 30 wallet-sized replicas in the mail, that I can give family and friends.


Reverend Bob said that certain aspects of my evaluation raised questions about my normalcy, as he put it. He suggested a weekend workshop at Gay Busters to fine tune some of my suspect areas. Most troubling according to Pastor Bob was my answer of greater than ten, to the question, How many Broadway shows have you seen?

Pastor Bob Roberts added that he enjoys a good show as well as the next fellow, but that New York theater crowd is full of the sort that endangers our country and our families. So they look hard at that particular answer.

"Why just last year our preteen group put on a little musical in the church hall, and it was danged good. That's what I am talking about, boy."

Poor Stuie, on the other hand, fared much more poorly, according to Pastor Bob's interpetation.

"The boy's confused", he confided. "I can't say more because of them HIPPO regulations", he added, "but he's definitely got issues."

Tell me about it, I work with the guy.

Pastor Bob has recommended the "full Haggard" for Stuie and I am supposed to keep him locked up until space becomes available for him in their facility. I'll try but sometimes there is just no holding him.

As Pastor Bob often says, "We just caint have that element running around like regular people, boy."

Can I get an amen? Anybody, anybody, Bueller, anybody?

So to Pastor Ted, Pastor Tim Ralph and the offical spiritual advisor to the MerleSneed organization, Pastor Bob Roberts I say, "Ah, geez, your hair's on fire."


















Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgemental and cranky


Tag: Daily Life
Personal Finance
Humor

Hey Kid, Wake Up...

My post yesterday got me to thinking about my experience being a substitute teacher. For one whole school year I was a substitute teacher for the Title One program in our local district. Title One directs extra money specifically to schools with large populations of poor students. I don't know the exact criteria to be classified as a Title One school but an important factor is the number of children eligible for free or reduced cost lunch. The schools we worked at were 100% free lunch.

The way it worked was that each Thursday, the other Title One subs and I would relieve teachers in the first to third-grades of the Title One Schools, so that the teacher could attend specialized training on techniques for teaching these specific populations. Or as some called it, a day out of the classroom.

Being a sub for the day is kind of cool because no one expects much from you and I tried hard not to disappoint them.

I saw all sorts of social problems in these schools that just shocked me. For instance, I filled in for a first-grade teacher at a school one time where the principal took me aside and told me that there was a student named Frankie who would try to sleep in class and that one of my jobs was to keep him awake. Send him to the nurse if all else failed, but first try and keep him awake.

This poor little guy had an older brother, maybe ten or so, and the two of them stayed up all night watching television and then tried to sleep all day at school. The school could not get their mother to make them go to bed on time. They had called the authorities on her and she promised to do better, but didn't. I was not able to keep him awake and much to the chagrin of the principal I made the nurse take him away, which he loved, because she had a cot for him to sleep on.

The best place to sub was at a school on the Yaqui Indian reservation. This was great because I had an aide who basically did everything, while I hung around. Except for complying with the state law that said you had to have a licensed teacher present in the classroom, I served no real purpose. The aide was this older Yaqui woman who scared the bejezus out of the kids. No one said or did anything in the room without her permission, me included. When I tried to teach what the teacher had left for me, the aide spent her time correcting me, while the kids laughed at me.

The thing is that these kids were really well-behaved and pleasant to be around. At recess, a couple of the boys bet me that they could outrun me (this was years ago), so I had to prove them wrong. I can say categorically that I can outrun any eight year-old on the planet. Okay, so that's a lie, but I outran these two knuckleheads.

The Yaqui are native to northern Mexico and southern Arizona, and in many respects are indistinguishable from Mexicans. They speak Spanish for the most part and look Mexican, at least to me. I asked her how many of the children were Yaqui and she stared at me a bit before saying, "All of them." She didn't add idiot to the answer, although I am sure she thought it. It wasn't a completely stupid question since the school is right on the edge of the reservation and I had seen a few Anglo kids in the halls, so it was entirely possible that some children were Mexican-American, rather than Yaqui.

After school the principal told me that I had "after school duty". Now technically you can't give a sub duty, but I was trying to be a team-player so I took up my post at the perimeter fence of the school. My job was to make sure that no kids climbed the fence and took off rather than riding the bus home. Apparently this was an ongoing problem.

My post looked like football fans rushing the field after a big win. I had kids going over the fence left and right and had no means and no inclination to stop them. I told the principal that a bunch had climbed over before I could stop them. He said the idea was to deter a few if you can, but that they always get over.

Another item. Long-time readers will recall that in May one of my coworkers was killed driving to a totally unnecessary meeting that we were forced to attend in Phoenix by our egomanical leader. I told my boss Kendall Ling that hell would freeze over before I drove to one of these stupid meetings again. Well, get out the ice scraper because they have scheduled another mandatory meeting for all salaried employees in Phoenix at the end of the month.

This morning Kendall left us voice mail commanding our presence. I am in a quandary here. Is this the final frontier job-wise? So far I have been playing don't ask/don't tell with Kendall on the subject of the meeting, but I assume that by tomorrow things will hit the fan. He told my coworkers that he is sure I will pitch a fit and it would be a shame to disappoint the guy. We'll see.

Besides, I can always go back to being a sub. Eighty smackers a day, and the only jackass I have to contend with is me.

Merle

Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgemental and cranky


Tag: Daily Life
Personal Finance
Humor