Stinkin' Crooks

When I landed my gig at the hardware store, it was inconceivable to me that people stole from the store. After all, it is our friendly neighborhood hardware. I don't know why I supposed this, but I have been proven to be oh, so wrong.

The patrons of our store are mostly workman, senior citizens and homeowners from the neighborhood. Most, probably 75% of our customers are regulars. There is the occasional meth addict, also known as one of the usual suspects, but we tend to know them on sight. Only the addicts get any real scrutiny, which turns out to be a a boon to some.

The reality of things is that a certain amount of pilferage is inevitable, because a certain segment of the criminal element comes disguised as senior citizens, homeowners and workmen. Relatively few thieves have the decency to show up looking like criminals. Add to that, the thin staffing of our store, and you have an invitation to larceny.

Some people, including a surprising number of senior citizens, believe that if they need a screw or two, it is permissible to help themselves to some. I've seen more than one oldster stuff a handful of nuts and bolts into his pocket and scurry out of the store. I guess it is the same phenomenon as grazing in the produce section of the grocery.



Far and away the most common method of theft is to remove an item from its packaging and concealing it in a pocket, bag or purse. The card shown in the picture is for a four dollar drill bit. Someone removed the bit and hid the card behind some merchandise. I found it while stocking. I find this stuff all the time.



This is a picture of a pipe threading die, used to put threads on cut pipe. Our store has a pipe threading machine and a couple of weeks ago, I noticed that two of our four dies were not with the machine.

Since the machine had been out for repair, we assumed that they had been lost in transit or were simply hidden among stuff in the warehouse. Yesterday the remaining two dies vanished. These are big pieces of equipment that couldn't be carried out the front door unnoticed, so we assume that some ne'er-do-well shoved them out the back door while the staff was busy. They likely tossed them over our fence and then went around to the alley to retrieve them.

A person would have to have a pipe threader like ours to use them, so it seems probable that some junkie did it in hopes of selling them.

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 judgmental and cranky

Day Two

We're nearly through day two of Noah's nine-day stay. His mother has called today to tell us how fabulous her honeymoon is going. This is what we know so far.

a. San Juan is wonderful.
b. The hotel is spectacular.
c. Their lunch was great.
d. The water is turquoise and warm.
e. The people are so nice.
f. Their ship looks fantastic and they will be in Saint Thomas tomorrow.

A lesser man than me might think she is messing with us.

We had midget bowling today. Wait, is that insensitive? My little guys have been pestering me to take them bowling, so today was the day.


Aiden and I anxiously wonder if he will pick up the spare.


Noah and I wonder where the ball went.

It's funny how differently the boys reacted to their bowling success. Noah cheers himself, no matter how many or how few pins he knocked down. Aiden is much more serious about doing it right and got down when he didn't get a strike or spare.

Anyway we had a good time and I got to show someone's dad a thing or two about how a skilled bowler does it.




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 judgmental and cranky

Nine Days

I've always liked the sight of water caught in midair.



Since I find myself alone on this Trey as a nickname business, I have been mulling over my aversion to it. I guess my annoyance was mostly because the coworker who told me this news with breathless pride, was a pretentious, white trash doofus. He could have told me the kid was named Dave and I probably would have been irked. So at ease all you Treys.

Noah and his suitcase arrived this morning at sevenish, for an eight-night and nine-day stay. His mother and stepfather are off on their honeymoon. I figure the SWAT team will be talking me down from the roof by midweek.

They called a few moments ago to say that they have arrived in Puerto Rico. They are going on a cruise from there. Interesting factiod, Puerto Rico is evidently an island. Who knew?

All I can say is this damned honeymoon better yield some major loot for me.







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 judgmental and cranky

I was at the store earlier today when I heard a woman shriek, "Trey", at a misbehaving child. I recall the first time I ever heard the nickname Trey.

I guy I worked with told me that his daughter had baby and that since the baby was going to be a third, as in Thurston Howell the Third, it would be called Trey. I thought it was idiotic at the time and I continue to think so. Will Trey's kid be called Quad, should he decide to hold to the tradition of kids named Thurston?

Today was golf day. The Seafood King is away trolling the Seven Seas or something, which left Some Guy Named Bob and me on our own. All I can say is that no one got hurt. The weather was in the eighties and it was a perfect day to be playing golf.

Here's something else. I know that I only yesterday complained about the tidal wave of bad news that is swamping us, but somethings need to ranted about. This isn't news anyway, it's my never-to-be-humble opinion.

In Weston, Wisconsin, an eleven-year-old girl died from complications of diabetes because her ignorant parents chose to pray for her recovery rather than seeking medical care for her. How in the twenty-first century can such superstitious ignorance persist? Idiots.











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 judgmental and cranky

More Bad News To Follow

The problem with the internet age is that we have access to a bunch of information we're better off not knowing. At least from a 'peace of mind' perspective.

I could live without knowing how crappy the financial markets are on an hour-by-hour basis. I would prefer to have proof that we are in recession before being treated to the news that we "might be". In fact, leave me out of the loop altogether.

Gas prices are driving up the cost of everything and the housing market will take us all down. That is, unless things improve.

A huge chunk of the Antarctic ice sheet fell into the ocean yesterday or at least recently. In decades past this would have gone unnoticed, but now it is cause to remind us that we are doomed. Unless the oceanographers who say that the oceans stopped warming in 1998 are right. Then we're not quite so doomed.

Hillary lies, Obama consorts with a hate monger and McCain recently discovered that he is a nominee for President of the US, not his condo board. This is more than I can handle. Try as I might, I can't avoid this news.

Don't even get me started on the Social Security and Medicare mess. Wouldn't it be just my luck that they change the rules just when I am about to score the big Social Security dough?

Our state passed a law cracking down on employers who hire illegals. The illegals fled to other states and now I'm greeted with the news that we have a potential shortage of workers on our hands. Our city, county and state are all broke or darn near it. Our local school district is a political and fiscal mess, with no relief in sight.

The Chinese will either crush us militarily, with their poison crap at WalMart or by polluting the entire Earth. Take your pick. Iraq is a mess, unless it's not. Iran has nukes unless they don't. Pakistan is about to explode and take God-knows-what with them, unless it doesn't. What a mess.

So what's a guy to do? I think I'll continue to try to ignore things, unless I can't. Then I'll just worry needlessly about stuff I can't control.

I don't know why I've always loved the musical Annie, but maybe this is the right attitude. Or maybe this is the stupidest post ever.






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 judgmental and cranky

How does a four-year-old convince the bartender that he is twenty-three? That's his lawyer on the left.

It was back to work today, with the usual scheduling mishap. This is becoming a daily occurrence in my life. I forgot that I had traded hours with another employee today and I showed up two and one-half hours early for work. At least I wasn't late.

Good news on the work front. The boss has put me on a regular schedule. I'm going to be working six-hour days Tuesday and Wednesday and all day on Friday and Saturday. Not too bad from a work stand point and nearly idiot-proof.

Speaking of mistakes, I was talking to one of the younger guys at bowling last night and he was telling me that he got a $600 per month raise this week. Unfortunately, he went out today and spent the raise on a new car, at least the next sixty months of the raise. He had a very good reason to buy it though. They needed a nicer car. Well, okay then.

I remember doing the same kind of things. I guess it is part of learning that you don't have to spend every dime you make, as soon as you make it, to be happy.




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 judgmental and cranky

The Wedding

Yesterday was the wedding.

The location was lovely.

Daughter Sneed married a cowboy. The wedding was a Western affair, a cowboy jubilee, you might say.


Chairs were arranged.


Tables were set.

The bride was beautiful.


Then, just at sunset,



The vows were exchanged.

We ate and drank.


There was some dancing.


Happy couples were everywhere, it seemed.

Especially these happy guys.


Finally, late into the night it was time to go. So we went.

Congratulations, Jenny and Greg.















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 judgmental and cranky

The Big Day

Todays is the wedding. If you stumbled upon my blog through random happenstance or just bad luck, you might ask what wedding? Glad you asked. Daughter Sneed and Mr. Peterson are getting married this evening at a place called Tohono Chul, which is a desert preserve here in our fair city. Tohono Chul, means desert corner in the language of the Tohono O’odham people. Tohono O’odham are the indigenous peoples of our area. Tohono O’odham, or Desert People, used to be called Papago, a Pima Indian word, meaning bean people or bean-eaters. In the 1980's they formally changed their name to Tohono O’odham, a traditional name that had been used within the nation. But back to the wedding. We had a pre-wedding bash at Daughter Sneed's home last night. It was a great time. The weather is still cool at night, but not so cool that we couldn't have dinner on the patio. We met one of Mr. Peterson's brothers, his sister, nieces and nephews. All very fine folks. Mrs. Sneed's brother and sister came in for the wedding, along with their families. Of course our kids were there, with the to-be-expected exception of Cletus Sneed. Mr. Peterson's lovely daughters came with a full complement of boyfriends. Family occasions unfortunately remind us of those who are not there. Had Daughter Sneed's husband, Jerry and our beloved grandson Christian not died six years ago, this day would not be happening. It is bittersweet, more sweet than bitter. Of course, no Sneed family, and it turns out no Peterson family gathering would be complete without some absences because of familial disputes. She is mad at him and he is pissed at her. No occasion is so important, no petty dispute so trivial, that we cannot take time to behave selfishly. Luckily, all the important guests who could make, made it. And now, on with the show. 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 judgmental and cranky

Schedule, Shemdule

The hardest part of being a hardware guy is being an hourly employee. I haven't been an hourly person in thirty years. It turns out that they take this schedule business kind of seriously. When I last worked at Tedious Systems, I made my own hours. As I got my work done, no one cared about my comings and goings, so this is a big culture shock to me.

At the hardware store my comings and goings are strictly according to the schedule. If the schedule says be there at nine, they expect you to be clocked in at nine. That would all be fine and dandy, if my schedule didn't change all the time.

Monday, I thought that I was supposed to work from 2pm to 6pm. However, when I checked my calendar, I had written down 9:30am to 6pm on it. I called the store to clarify my start time and was told that 9:30am was correct. So, I hustled off to work.

It turned out that I was really supposed to work 2pm to 6pm, but one guy had a family emergency and they only told me to come in at 9:30am so I could cover for him. I guess they figured that if they asked me to come in early, I might say no.

To make matters worse, my schedule for Tuesday showed 12pm to 6pm on my calendar. I have never worked 12pm to 6pm before, so I assumed that I had written 12pm to 6pm, when I was really supposed to work 2pm to 6pm, which I work a lot. You know what they say about assumptions. I showed up two hours late for work yesterday. I simply cannot keep a shifting schedule straight, mostly because I don't want to.

I was hired to work 20 hours per week. A half day on Thursday and all day Friday and Saturday. Lately, the boss has been adding two other full or half days during the week because of vacations and one person who is off sick.

I know that the store needs me all day Friday and Saturday, so I asked the boss to schedule me three half days, Monday, Tuesday and Thursday, with full days Friday and Saturday. That would be 28 hours a week and would give me a set schedule. She said she would think about what to do.

I hope she does because I cannot guarantee that I will keep things straight.



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 judgmental and cranky

Ratatouille

Last May, I posted this picture of a mouse in a bush by my former neighbor and would-be girlfriend, Tracy's house. A while back Tracy moved away and moved in with her swell new boyfriend. Since then she has become pregnant and is getting married at the end of the month. I'm beginning to think she is not as committed to our relationship as me.

A few days ago, Son Sneed noticed that we had a visitor in the backyard, living by the fountain. Evidently, when Tracy bugged out, she left the mouse for me.

I personally wouldn't mind a harmless rodent around, but Son Sneed is convinced that he will get hantavirus from the mouse. Hantavirus is spread by deer mice, which this guy is not, but then there's always the plague. Lacey the Wonderdog spends all day trying to catch the mouse and wrecking havoc in the process. So, the mouse had to go. Luckily for Mr. Mouse, we practice nonviolence toward mice and men.



I set out a trap baited with birdseed in hopes of capturing the little guy and after a few days I finally succeeded. Before I got home, Lacey tried her best to break in to the cage and maim the mouse, or worse. Luckily, she wasn't successful. The cage didn't fare as well as the mouse trapped within. Lacey bent and battered it pretty good.



We took our little rodent pal to a vacant lot down the block and set him free. Hopefully he will stay out of trouble.

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 judgmental and cranky

We have had rain the past two days. This is a flower from one of my new roses called Blue Girl. It is almost lavender in color.



We don't get weather cold enough to cause our roses to go dormant, so they retain their leaves over the winter. When I pruned this year I took off all the old leaves so that when the bush releafed, it would look its best. this is an example.

But the really great news for today is that the lovely Mrs. Sneed's wallet turned up at work. She had already canceled her credit and debit card, but at least we don't have to spring for a new key to her car. I called the dealer and found out that it would have been $150 or so to replace it. As my blog friend Steve said, that's insane.


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 judgmental and cranky

Shocking I Tell You

In what can only be described as a pop culture shocker, Rambo (2008), the latest entry in the John Rambo (Sylvester Stallone) franchise, has been shipped off to the bargain theaters. Rambo opened in the United States on February 25th and it took a little more than two weeks for it to hit the cheapos. It's not that hard to understand how this could happen.

There seems to be a small but fervent following for the aging Stallone and his mucho macho character. The small number of adolescents and post-adolescents who actually saw the latest Rambo, loved it for the most part. At least according to their online reviews. The major film critics gave the movie mostly so so reviews. Michael Medved called it well-crafted but lacking in substance. Ya think?

A.O Scott, reviewing for the New York Times said, “Rambo” is, for most of its fairly brief running time, a blood bath punctuated by occasional bouts of clumsy dialogue. But the movie does have its own kind of blockheaded poetry.

Carrie Rickey of the Philadelphia Inquirer was least kind, offering the movie no stars. Read her review here, if you wish.

Other critics were more generous toward the latest Rambo effort.

Take for example, Mr. Kevin Carr of Film School Rejects, a community-driven (whatever that is) film production blog. Mr. Carr said in reviewing the movie, "Finally, an R-rated action flick that f*cking rocks." That sort of insightful thought should drive the fans to the to the theaters in droves, so it's hard to figure why Rambo faded so quickly.

The Sneed blog's inside Hollywood connections tell me that Stallone is planning a big finale for his other film hero, Rocky Balboa.

According to sources who have seen the working story outline, it has Balboa is working as a part time custodian in the assisted-care facility, where he also is a resident. Other residents have not picked up on the fact that they have a former world champ in their midst.

When evil capitalists threaten to close the home and sell the property to big oil interests, Rocky comes out of retirement for one last benefit bout, in an effort to salvage the property for the old folks, himself included. Due to the off-the-record nature of my sources, I cannot tell you how the fight turns out, but expect the unexpected.

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 judgmental and cranky

Operators Are Standing By

You may not believe this, but I swear I saw it on television. HD Wraparound Sunglasses have revolutionized sun eye wear and, I swear I'm not making this up, they have modern European styling. All for only $19.99, but wait there's even more... I'm not sure how cool European, I mean modern European styling actually is, considering the odd-looking footwear Europeans favor. But when it come to fashion eye wear, modern European styling is the bomb, if the word of the fine folks at HD Wraparound Sunglasses is to be accepted. All kidding about European tennies aside, have you ever thought about the claims that hucksters make for questionable products? Exactly what is European styling? Natural supplement sellers are forever touting the secrets of Chinese medicine, and not just any secrets, traditional Chinese secrets. What a load. There are no traditional Chinese medical secrets. Until thirty years ago, the Chinese life expectancy was 40 years. Since China opened up its society a bit and has adopted more Western medical techniques, the Chinese life expectancy has increased to 71 years. If you want Chinese medical tips, contemporary beats tradiitional every time. Just a thought. 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 judgmental and cranky

Another Fine Mess

Poor Mrs. Sneed has experienced one of the things we all dread. Her wallet, with her car key attached was either stolen or lost and not yet returned. Of course, this means a bunch of hassle. She has to get an new driver's license, cancel her bank card and who knows what else? The biggest hassle is the potential fraudulent use of her information.

Then there is getting a replacement car key. Newer cars have transponder keys, with microchips embedded in them. The new keys will turn the ignition on, but the car will not start if it doesn't sync with the chip. You can no longer just take your key to the corner hardware store and get a copy made.

No siree, now you have to go to the dealer to get the proper key and as we all know, when car dealers have you down they show no mercy. They shamelessly charge out the wazoo for whatever service they perform.

I used to have an acquaintance who was a car dealer. He told me that new car dealers would rather not sell cars because there's not that much money in selling new cars. He claimed that all a dealer hopes to do through car sales is to pay the overhead associated with selling them. The real money is in parts and service and the only way to get that business from the automakers is to agree to sell their cars.

Anyway, assuming the missing wallet doesn't show up, I figure we will gget stuck for a couple of hundred bucks to get a new key. In contrast, I made about 20 car keys for older cars at the store today for a dollar ninety-nine each.

Here's another case from the files of, It's the Cheapest Man That Spends the Most.

A guy came into the store yesterday with a transponder key that he had gone to the dealership and purchased. He paid them to program the microchip so that it would be in sync with his car's computer, but balked at paying them an additional fee (about $20) to actually cut the key so that it would turn the ignition lock. After all, he reasoned, he could take it to the corner hardware store and have it cut for less than two bucks.

The problem began when someone (could have been me) might have made a slight error in cutting on side of the key. I say might have because the guy didn't have the car with him so that we could test the key out. Instead he got all snitty with me.

He complained to the boss that he was going to have to drive twenty miles to see if it worked and if it didn't he would have to go get a new one at the dealer. then he would have to come back to our store so that we could reimburse him for the blank key I hosed up, assuming I hosed it up.

Does any of that make any sense and do you think that this guy still believes that he saved any money with this scheme? And am I ever cutting a key blank that someone brings in? No to both, I'm guessing.

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 judgmental and cranky

Float Like A Butterfly, Sting Like A Bee

Anyone sick of my rose pictures yet? I'm not.



I had an interesting experience in the hardware store, I met a knockout artist. More on that term in a minute.

In the store, the staff uses a code over the in-store radio system to alert the management when there is a suspected shoplifter in the store. In our neighborhood we have some pretty scary characters walking around. Some of the suspected shoplifters are just the usual suspects, others are miscellaneous drug addicts, passing through.

Yesterday afternoon I was re-keying a door lock for a guy and I heard one of the cashiers mention that there was a possible shoplifter coming into the store. The manager responded over the radio that he would check the guy out. I just kept on working on the lock, since I'm not in the criminal apprehension part of the hardware business.

My customer had to leave the store and asked me to leave the lock at the cashier's register for him to pick up later. I took the lock to the cashier and found that she was talking to a very large African-American fellow about some ten-cent item he was buying. I waited in line behind him.

As an aside, one of the techniques used by opportunistic stickup guys is to get the cashier to open the register, so that they can grab the cash and run. A tiny purchase accomplishes that goal.

Sensing that I was standing beside him, this fellow turned and asked me if I was keeping my eye on him? I suppose that is a fair question since many people in retail treat African-American men as though they suspect them of criminal intent. I replied that I was just waiting for the cashier and he turned back to his conversation. His in-my-face confrontation surprised me a bit.

By this point I noticed the strong smell of marijuana about this guy and his homeless-like appearance. If I was on the lookout for a shoplifter or a stickup man, ethnicity or race aside, it would be him. But I wasn't on the lookout for anything, but a way to get rid of my lock.

Abruptly, the guy returned his attention to me and told me to back off, because and I quote here, "I'm a knockout artist." Close enough for me. I announced that I was leaving the lock and went about my business. The manager was lurking nearby anyway. Should the knockout artist find the need to knock someone out, better the manager than me.


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 judgmental and cranky

Petunias are very popular around here, chiefly because with minimal care they flourish.



Among the new roses that I planted this year are these two, called Golden Glow and Chicago Peace.






Ched wondered if the New York New York Hotel still smells like sour milk? I guess I never thought of it like that, but it definitely still has the same smell. There must be some tricky science of smell, because each casino has a distinctive odor to it.

Speaking of odor to it, the building craze in Las Vegas has increased the population of timeshare scum to record levels. These losers are everywhere.

Timeshares are one of the worst purchases you can make. I apologize in advance to anyone who owns a timeshare, but unless you are the one person in a million who enjoys being trapped into one, you have no doubt come to realize what a bad deal they are. If you do the math honestly, you can stay in a very nice hotel much cheaper than owning a timeshare.

The lovely Mrs. Sneed and I have developed, or stolen the only surefire way to avoid these people. When approaching or exiting any hotel in Vegas, we split up. The timeshare people only prey upon couples.

We did have a light-hearted moment with someone trying to hustle us as we passed by. It wasn't a timeshare, but rather a guy with a couple of water massage machines set up in the walkway of one of the casinos.

As we tried to avoid eye contact, he stepped into our path and told us he had just what we needed for only $30 bucks. Mrs. Sneed put her head down and barraged right past him. As we walked away he shouted, "Twenty bucks...ten bucks...okay free, you can't turn down free." I'm guessing he didn't really mean free.






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 judgmental and cranky

Tuesday

We're back. Our trip to Las Vegas was great. We went to see Bette Midler's show as planned and she is still fabulous. For a woman who will be sixty-three this December, she is a wonder to behold. Except for the Pakistani guy sitting next to me who insisted upon explaining the whole show to his equally Pakistani girlfriend, the evening was just great. In the interest of preserving good Pakistani/American cooperation in the war on terror, I did not tell him to shut the heck up. It took remarkable restraint on my part. Speaking of the war on terror, this afternoon as we were boarding our fight, the geniuses from the TSA pulled nine people out of line for "extra screening'. Fortunately, I wasn't among them or I might be typing this from jail and not my living room. Among the nine suspicious characters selected were eight elderly white people and one twenty-something white woman. They were taken aside and in front of all the other passengers, were patted down and wanded with that wand thing the TSA loves so much. When I last checked elderly white Americans haven't committed any acts of terror, so it's unclear to me what the point was. Actually, that's not true, I suspect that I know exactly what the point was. I think that some brainiac at the TSA has mandated that a certain number of people be screened each day or week or month or something. Rather than risk being accused of racial profiling, they have decided to screen the only people in America who won't complain, Hal and Blanche from Moline. "Ya sure, you betcha I thought it was odd them patting us down like that, but there's no telling you you can trust these days, no siree Bob. They're just doing their jobs is all" - Hal Jorgenson, Moline, Illinois. Here are a few random observations from our time in Las Vegas. Feel free to adopt any and all into your life as needed. I'm here to help. 1. Just because Las Vegas doesn't specifically ban kids is no reason to bring them along. 2. Just because they sell tops that allow your boobs to shoot out doesn't mean they are for every woman. 3. Just because it's available in your size doesn't mean you're obligated to wear it. 4. It's better to be bald than to grow your hair long and comb it forward. 5. Soul mate is not a word that comes to mind when I see a couple that looks like George Burns and a showgirl. 6. The best way to meet young and beautiful women is not necessarily to shout lewd comments at them from the bar where you and your pals are drinking it up. 7. There's a reason its called drunk and stupid. 8. The elevator will still operate even if you get off your cellphone. 9. Everyone around you knows that you are texting in a dark theater, even if you are real sneaky about it. and lastly, 10. Just because it stays in Vegas doesn't mean it should happen in Vegas. 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 judgmental and cranky

The Clampetts Take Vegas

Exciting developments here at the Sneed blog. The lovely Mrs. Sneed and Yours Truly, are jetting off to beautiful Las Vegas, Nevada this morning, for a two-night and three-day stay at the Planet Hollywood Resort and Casino. The Planet Hollywood is the former Aladdin Hotel on the Las Vegas Strip and is part of the Sheraton brand. It was selected for us by Priceline since I refuse to pay full price. I'm hoping that it's improved over its Aladdin days. The Aladdin was kind of a creepy place. When it was built, it had huge cost overruns, was a total money pit for the owners and was in steady decline from day one. According to the Planet Hollywood website, "Planet Hollywood Resort & Casino features accommodations fit for Hollywood Royalty". I'm dubious. We have been to Las Vegas about a million (slight exaggeration) times and all the hotels on the strip are pretty much the same, at least for us non-royals. But then, no one goes to Las Vegas to experience superior room accommodations. The object is to eat and drink too much, gamble too much and stay up way too late. Ours are no different, except for the drinking part. By this evening we will be firmly established as the two in the phrase, "Get a load of those two." If all goes according to plan, we will be seeing the new Bette Middler show tonight. Middler has replaced Celine Dione as the feature performer at Caesar's Palace. Celine finally took her entourage back to the planet Zork or wherever she actually comes from. Don't fall for the story that she's from Canada, the woman's a space alien. So there you have it. No post tomorrow and maybe not on Tuesday. In my absence feel free to search my blog with the keywords Las Vegas and enjoy some of the many fine posts I've written about Las Vegas. 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 judgmental and cranky

Okay, a show of hands please. How man people would think to take a belt to the hardware store to be fixed? I've had two people this week bring men's belts into the store in search of a cure for what ailed them. In both cases the needed item was a teeny tiny screw. In that respect, guess the hardware store is the perfect place to go. Maybe the reason it seemed so odd to me is that I rarely buy belts, and when I do they are ones where the leather strap is riveted permanently to the buckle, so there are no screws to fall out. The two belts in this case, were the reversible type, brown on one side and black on the other. In order to reverse them, the buckle has to be disengaged and the strap turned over. Hence, a buckle with screw not rivets. I reject the concept of reversible belts, but that is a post for another day. One of the belts was brought in by an old couple. We get a lot of older customers trying to squeexe the last bit of life from something. Their belt appeared to be only slightly less old than they were. The old man kept telling his wife to just throw the damn thing away, but she was sure it could still be salvaged. And she proved to be right. For forty-two cents, it lived to serve another day. The second belt belonged to a well-dressed middle-aged guy and it appeared to be relatively expensive as men's belts go. I gave him a box of tiny screws and he fiddled with it at the service table until he triumphantly pronounced it fixed. I'm sure he will tell his friends about how he fixed his $50 belt for a mere thirty cents. So, I guess whether you need a light switch or a belt repair, the hardware store is a good choice. 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 judgmental and cranky

Men are men; the best sometimes forget.
- William Shakespeare



Today was golf day, or at least it was supposed to be golf day. Some Guy Named Bob, our golf social secretary, told me and The Seafood King to be at the course by 8:15 am, because or tee time was at 8:30. Unfortunately, the actual reservation time was 7:30 am, leaving us about an hour late as I calculate it.

To make matters worse, the course we were supposed to play at, had two old man club tournaments scheduled today, so once we missed our appointed tee off time, we were S-O-L, unless we wanted to wait around for a couple of hours. Instead we abandoned the whole idea.

If this was the first time this happened, it wouldn't be so bad, but it happened just a couple of weeks ago too. We had a reservation for 8:30 according to Some Guy Named Bob, but it turned out to really be at 8:00. Some Guy Named Bob is having a bit of trouble keeping things straight. The new plan, effective immediately, is for us each to call the course and confirm the time before we show up. At least that way only Some Guy Named Bob will be late.

I thought that I might use this "found" time to go to the garden center and do some work with the rose group in the garden. Unfortunately, some maintenance guys were working on the irrigation system at the garden center and no one was able to get into the rose garden. Another bust.

Having driven across town on my second wild goose chase of the day, I decided to drop by Tedious Systems, conveniently located near the garden center, and check in with my old friends. Things are the same at Tedious, that is to say they are still tedious.

I ran into my former boss, Randall Bing, who assured me that things have never been better under his excellent leadership. Man, am I happy to be out of that mess.

Thursday is also my half day at work. They called me to come in an hour early today because of some personnel crisis or another. Since I wasn't doing anything else I didn't mind going in a bit early. I'm a team-player kind of guy anyway.




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 judgmental and cranky

Wednesday

The lovely Mrs. Sneed has the flu bad. So bad in fact that she stayed home from work. I can't recall the last time she did that. This doesn't bode well for our upcoming trip to Las Vegas this Sunday. I was reading a news article about the record price of oil and thinking about how people don't understand the law of supply and demand. Many of the people who posted comments about the article pointed to George Bush and US policy in the Middle East, as the reason for high oil prices. This assertion may make poster feel better, having vented a bit, but it misses the point. The producers of oil can command record prices for crude because there are countries and companies (and people) willing to pay the price demanded. The emerging industrial giants of Asia are adding to the demand for the finite supply of available crude and driving up the price. When I go to put gas in my Honda Civic every couple of weeks, I see lots and lots of gas-guzzling pickup and other large vehicles at the pumps. My little Civic gets about 30 mpg around town, so I drive it and leave my old pickup in the garage. That's a pretty simple decision. If I had decent mass transit available to me, the civic would sit too. So long as we opt for a lifestyle based upon oil, and mostly foreign oil, high prices will continue to be a problem. Nixon, Ford, Carter, Reagan, Bush, Clinton and now, another Bush, have known that our dependence upon oil is a dangerous path. Not one of them showed the leadership to alter that path. Maybe the next President will. Who knows? 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 judgmental and cranky

Pound Foolish

"It's the lazy man that does the most work." -- Tom and Ray Magliozzi, the Tappet Brothers. We have all tried to carry that one extra grocery bag, rather than making an extra trip and been rewarded with groceries strewn across the floor from a broken or dropped bag. Our laziness has caused more work that it saved. Tom and/or Ray may or may not have been the first to coin that phrase, I don't know. I may or may not have coined a corollary, "It's the cheap man that spends the most." One of the Sons Sneed recently experienced the latter trying to install his own car speakers and may think he coined it. Either way it's true. A guy came into the store today and asked me to get him a plug-in device that would convert 220V electrical current to 110v current, because he is traveling to a country far, far away that requires such a conversion for electrical devices made for use in America. We only stock one such device in our store. It costs about $35, but is a 1600 watt device, meaning that you can use a device that consumes up to 1600 watts with it. You can buy a cheaper converter, but you lose capacity. I can imagine that many people might be pissed to find that their hairdryer or curling iron won't work on vacation because they saved $5 on a swell cheapo adapter. My guy balked at paying $35 for our converter, proclaiming it too costly. It seems to me that in the big scheme of things, $35 is small potatoes in the cost of a trip abroad, but then it's not my $35. So, he left and was heading to a major electronics retailer a couple of miles away, in search of a better deal. He promised to come back, if his quest proved fruitless. Gas and time aren't free and sometimes peace of mind is worth a few bucks. I suspect that he will wind up spending more than he bargains for. 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 judgmental and cranky

Wind

"Springtime is the land awakening.
The March winds are the morning yawn." - Lewis Grizzard

Lewis may have been right, but I think that the wind is a high price to pay for the awakening of Spring. I hate the wind.

Yesterday we had a day long cold wind from the west. Today it was equally cool , but the wind was out of the east. Go figure.

Before the wind came up this morning I raked leaves in the back patio and generally cleaned up a bit. That was not a waste of time, but looking at it now, it's hard to see that I did much.

We have a large Southern Live Oak tree and for reasons that are a mystery to biologists, it keeps its leaves through the Winter and then over the course of just a few days, drops them in Spring.

I had lunch with my pals, Lonnie and Chuck today. Monday is my only day off work this week. Chuck, who is ninety, was complaining about having taken his new car to the dealer for routine service. He thinks that they rooked him. You think? He paid sixty bucks to have the oil changed and a "safety check" done. The car has less than five thousand miles on it.

Chuck said that the guy at the dealer was telling him that regular maintenance was important in order to keep the five-year extended warranty valid. Chuck told the guy that when you are ninety, a five-year extended warranty is not all that big a concern. Chuck is not exactly right on that one though. The life expectancy for a healthy male, aged ninety is 3.9 years. He better keep that oil changed.






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 judgmental and cranky

Random Photos

My first real rose of the year. This rose is a hybrid tea called Rosa 'Mirandy'. It has a red to deep pink coloration and is very fragrant for a hybrid tea rose. The Brothers Sneed chat in the background.



This is a picture of a light pole in the parking lot of a brake shop around the corner. This plant, I think its cat claw, has overtaken the pole. It reminds me of some alien creature.



Ever wonder what happened to Groucho's hair after he died? This poor mesquite tree has been whacked back pretty severely by the power company. I am never in favor of cutting down trees, but this one looks pretty sad and maybe cutting it down would be best.



Evening in the desert.





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 judgmental and cranky

Merle Sneed - Nuisance Terrorist

I was awaken at three this morning by someone's car alarm. Bad enough that it awakened me, but worse was that it blared on for over a half an hour. I don't know it the car's battery died or the owner was finally roused to action and turned it off, but shortly after three-thirty the wail was silenced. There really ought to be some kind of licensing exam before you can buy a car alarm. What point does a car alarm actually serve? We have become so indifferent to them that a car thief can sit behind the wheel with the siren blaring while fiddling with the ignition and no one will give him a passing glance, let alone call the police. I'm reminded of two incidents that happened in the 1970s when I was younger and more reckless. One weekend, on a Saturday morning a bell went off in the neighborhood. A really loud fire bell. It went on and on, hour after hour. Finally, I walked around the block and discovered some people standing in front of a house which had a large fire bell attached to the front. Someone said that the owners were out of town and that the fire bell had apparently malfunctioned. A call to the police had proven no help in silencing it. We considered turning off the power to the house as a way to kill the annoyance, but that would leave a fridge full of rotting food. Instead, I got the idea to use the garden house to short out the bell and stop the ringing. It worked like a charm. I figured I might be in for some repercussion for damaging or even ruing the bell, but no one ever complained to me about it. Maybe it still worked, but I never heard it again. The second incident was actually a series of incidents of the same origin. One Saturday morning a heavy flow of water began running in the gutter by our house. The flow gradually increased to a small stream throughout the morning. Finally, I walked up stream and found that it originated at a small retail center a couple of blocks away. It was runoff from the sprinkler system, which had malfunctioned and not shut off. It ran all weekend. I called our city authorities since wasting water in the desert is a serious business. Promises were made to look into the matter, but over several months it happened several more times. One Saturday in the middle of one of the deluges, I walked up to the retail center and asked someone in one of the stores for the number of the landlord, which turned out to be a local management company. All call to them produced a promise to look into the matter. Several hours later, with no slow in the flow, I called back and was told that they had checked with the tenants and had been told that the sprinklers were not on. I assured them that I had just looked and they were. The person at the management company assured me that I was full of crap. So, in my usual careful and considered way, I walked back to the location, traipsed into the running sprinklers, located the controller box which was filled with water, reached in and pulled out the wiring. The sprinklers stopped. Over the next few weeks the grass slowly died in front of the building and no seemed interested in fixing the damaged controller wiring. Problem solved. 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 judgmental and cranky