Dec 27, 2006
It Seemed Cool At The Time
In the midst of what should have been eleven consecutive days off, I found myself headed to work this morning. Due to an unexpected event a couple of weeks ago, my eleven days off became ten days off with a workday stuck in the middle. As you might recall, I tried to convince the boss to let me take an extra day off without pay, but he wouldn't go for it. My boss doesn't like to vary from the book. So I sat at my desk and worked on some stuff until about 2:30 pm today, when I bugged out.
I was headed to the office this morning and when I was stopped at a light, a woman pulled up next to me in a fancy-schmancy new BMW. I was admiring the car and I got to thinking about how transient things are. The new is soon old and the rapid advance of technology makes the new old much sooner than it used to.
A hundred years ago, more or less, the Wright brothers had the cutting edge technology in aviation. Now their creation is just a primitive artifact. People will someday see a picture of that fine automobile with the same thoughts that we have about the Wright brothers' plane. Even the aircraft of my boyhood half a century ago are relics now.
I was born in 1950. There was a time when I was usually the youngest person in the room. Since the lovely Mrs. Sneed and I got married at 19 and daughter sneed was born when we were 20, our kids had parents who were younger than most. What happened? Now I am the oldest person in most situations. Times have changed. How much you might ask?
Until I was about eight most families didn't have a TV. When we finally got one, it was black and white and I was the remote control. My old man would bellow, "See what's on 4", and up I would jump. We only had three channels and they went off the air after the ten o'clock news, but it was a marvel to us.
My dad bought the first generation Polaroid camera in the late 1950's. It took instant pictures, if by instant you mean about 5 minutes of developing time. But this was a major leap from sending pictures out to be developed at the drugstore. Truly instant photos were decades away for the average Joe.
My mom never drove a car or worked outside the home. My father never made more than $35,000 in a year in his life. When the lovely Mrs. Sneed and I got married, our rent was $65 per month and combined we made $129 per week, before taxes.
My siblings and I stood in line to get polio shots and later oral vaccine. The eradication of polio stands as one of the great medical achievements of all time. A childhood killer tamed in a mighty swoop. Antibiotics were administered via a shot in the arm or the butt. I got strep throat and had to go to the doctor everyday for about a week to get a shot of penicillin.
In 1963 I remember my dad predicting someone would invent a device to record TV so that it could be watched later. Fifteen years later, the lovely Mrs. Sneed and I got our first VCR. A couple of years later we got a microwave oven. And it wasn't because I was too cheap to get them sooner, I know what you're thinking. That's when they hit the market.
In 1969 I worked for a major grocery store chain and the cashiers had to ring up every single item on a manual cash register. The stock guys had to stamp a price on every item in the store. Once a week we did price changes, where we had to erase all those prices and stamp new ones on items whose price had changed. Bar codes and scanners later made all that unnecessary. Now they are making cashiers unnecessary.
Credit cards for the average shopper didn't exist until the 1970's. We couldn't imagine that anyone would charge things like groceries with a charge card. Everyone wrote checks and most people dealt in cash a lot. I know you think I'm kidding.
In 1974 I bought a four-function, handheld calculator for about $100. Today it would sell for two or three bucks, but it changed the life of a guy taking freshman accounting and was a giant leap forward from a device called the ten-key adder. In the early 1970's eight-track tape players were all the rage, soon to be made obsolete by the cassette player, which in turn fell victim to the CD. The phonograph record went the way of the dodo bird.
About that same time we got the first fax machine at work. It was called an LDX and it could only receive. The transmitter was a different unit and the bosses said we didn't need to send stuff anyway, so we didn't get one. It was about the same size as a refrigerator. I'm not making that up.
I got my first personal computer in 1982. It was made by Timex and you had to write programs in the Basic language to make it do anything. It was a useless piece of crap, but seemed miraculous to me. About 1985 we got cable television here in our fair city and broke the stranglehold of the big three networks. The Bell system was dismantled and it unleashed the revolution in telecommunications.
In the mid-1980's I got my first desktop computer. It had no hard-drive and everything had to be stored floppy disks. The monitor was available in black and white, black and green or black and orange. Color monitors were a thing of the future. The first modem that I ever used operated at 1200 baud. The really cool techies at work had 2400 baud modems. How slow is that? Think of a 56K dial-up modem and then slow it down to 5 percent of that speed. That's really slow, so slow in fact you couldn't use it for anything today, other than as a museum piece.
Until the 1980's there was a strong answering service lobby that kept voice messaging service off your telephone. Pagers became the rage in the 1990's and the first cellphones, the size of bricks appeared in the middle 90's. Ten years later they are antiques. In about 1980 a fellow confidently told me that by 1985 all cars would come with CB radios as standard equipment. CBs died a quick death for the most part.
Five years ago we bought a digital camera with a printer dock that let you print pictures at home. That was cutting-edge for about 3 or 4 months, before it became inefficient to do it that way, replaced by 5 better ideas.
Anyway, I suppose sometime soon some older guy will explain to his kids that "back in the day" we listened to music on something called an Ipod, and poor folks didn't even have HDTV. Of course, back in the day, gets closer all the time.
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
Dec 26, 2006
Awash In A Sea Of Stuff
This is what I am talking about.
Man, I'm I glad that's over. The totality of Christmas kind of sneaks up behind me and punches me in the stomach, usually toward midnight Christmas Eve. All of the spending, shopping, wrapping and eating hits me.
I was sitting Christmas Eve as we opened our gifts from one another, thinking this is a bunch of stuff we could have lived without, bought with money that might have found better uses and was more than most people on the planet will ever have. It seemed way over the top, stuff-wise.
As an aside, the best Christmas of my growing-up life was 1966, when we lived in California. My folks had no cash to speak of and no ability to borrow any. I got some underwear, socks and a pair of jeans. Plus I got a box of chocolate-cover cherries. I remember my mother apologizing for the meagerness of our Christmas, but my folks were sober for the only Christmas I recall, that is, until they gave up drinking in the late 1970's. Sobriety beats stuff anyday.
Back to now. There is also the matter of the leftovers. It is a tradition at Casa Sneed that the lovely Mrs. Sneed goes overboard on the desserts. Consequently, we have a half of a big tiramisu, an entire giant pumpkin pie from Costco, a bunch of coconut macaroons, candy, eclairs and some other stuff clogging up the refrigerator. While I am trying my best to clear it out, I may not be up to the job, plus my vows to myself to lay off the food have proven worthless thus far.
Another item lurking around after Christmas is cardboard, lots of cardboard. We have mandatory recycling here in our fair city, at least as near mandatory as they can make it. Actually, the mandatory part is that you must pay for recycling pickup whether you use it or not. My recycling bin is overflowing and I have a giant box sitting in the front room, waiting for me to find a place for it. The garbage container is stuffed full, even fuller than me, and there are bags on the ground. This is insane. Not to minimize natural disasters, but it feels like we are digging out from a really bad storm.
None of this is to say that Christmas is empty or meaningless or even that it is lacking anything, quite the contrary. It is full of joy , seeing our children and grandchildren happy and sharing time together. Gifts and food are good, but they accentuate the day, they don't make it. Sometimes the former gets trod upon by the latter.
It seems to me that the purpose of life is to do the best you can with the life you have. For a couple of hicks from the wrong side of the tracks, the lovely Mrs. Sneed and I have done okay. Christmas is a good time to take stock of that.
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
Man, I'm I glad that's over. The totality of Christmas kind of sneaks up behind me and punches me in the stomach, usually toward midnight Christmas Eve. All of the spending, shopping, wrapping and eating hits me.
I was sitting Christmas Eve as we opened our gifts from one another, thinking this is a bunch of stuff we could have lived without, bought with money that might have found better uses and was more than most people on the planet will ever have. It seemed way over the top, stuff-wise.
As an aside, the best Christmas of my growing-up life was 1966, when we lived in California. My folks had no cash to speak of and no ability to borrow any. I got some underwear, socks and a pair of jeans. Plus I got a box of chocolate-cover cherries. I remember my mother apologizing for the meagerness of our Christmas, but my folks were sober for the only Christmas I recall, that is, until they gave up drinking in the late 1970's. Sobriety beats stuff anyday.
Back to now. There is also the matter of the leftovers. It is a tradition at Casa Sneed that the lovely Mrs. Sneed goes overboard on the desserts. Consequently, we have a half of a big tiramisu, an entire giant pumpkin pie from Costco, a bunch of coconut macaroons, candy, eclairs and some other stuff clogging up the refrigerator. While I am trying my best to clear it out, I may not be up to the job, plus my vows to myself to lay off the food have proven worthless thus far.
Another item lurking around after Christmas is cardboard, lots of cardboard. We have mandatory recycling here in our fair city, at least as near mandatory as they can make it. Actually, the mandatory part is that you must pay for recycling pickup whether you use it or not. My recycling bin is overflowing and I have a giant box sitting in the front room, waiting for me to find a place for it. The garbage container is stuffed full, even fuller than me, and there are bags on the ground. This is insane. Not to minimize natural disasters, but it feels like we are digging out from a really bad storm.
None of this is to say that Christmas is empty or meaningless or even that it is lacking anything, quite the contrary. It is full of joy , seeing our children and grandchildren happy and sharing time together. Gifts and food are good, but they accentuate the day, they don't make it. Sometimes the former gets trod upon by the latter.
It seems to me that the purpose of life is to do the best you can with the life you have. For a couple of hicks from the wrong side of the tracks, the lovely Mrs. Sneed and I have done okay. Christmas is a good time to take stock of that.
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
Dec 25, 2006
Christmas Day
Last evening we had a party with all of the children and their families. We ate terrific food from a place called El Charro Cafe, exchanged some gifts and had fun.
About mid-week I started getting calls from Cletus, our wayward son, that he was going to drop by. In typical Cletus fashion, he repeatedly failed to show up. Then last night, just before our little get-together, he arrived with another man in tow. The second fellow, a middle-aged guy, has taken Cletus under his care, in an attempt to straighten him out. Kind of like the father he always wished he had.
Cletus was clear-eyed and drug-free as nearly as we could tell. I wish him the best, I mean that. They stayed for a little bit, we chatted and then they were off. It was refreshing the neither the lovely Mrs. Sneed nor I had to yell at Cletus.
The three remaining Sneed children and their families arrived and we spent some time chatting and reminiscing of Christmas's past. Some fun was poked at Merle Sneed, I have to say, especially when Older Son Sneed was asked to uncork some wine that his mother purchased for the occasion.
It is important to understand that I don't drink alcohol, as a personal decision. Many a holiday was scarred by booze when I was a child, so I abstain. Son Sneed, despite being nearly 34 year-old was reluctant to open the wine for fear that his old man might be offended or critical. I asked him what sort of a judgemental a-hole he thought I was? His response was to ask if we could record the conversation for future reference.
Daughter Sneed is one of these annoying people who remembers every little detail and bit of every conversation she ever hears. She can also recall what she was wearing when she heard it, but that's another story. As a result she is the champion gift-giver of the Sneed family. Everyone who opens a gift from her, asks how she knew to get that one thing. she answers with, "Last June you said to....and I thought...so I saw this and I had to buy it. Simple." We are pretty close to just giving her our money in January and telling her to get Christmas together for all of us. At least nothing would ever have to be returned or exchanged that way.
The Sneedlets opened their gifts from their extended families and then retired to our bed to enjoy some new videos that they got. One hooligan or the other spilled his juice on my side of the bed, leaving me the option of (a) sleeping on the very edge of the bed or (b) sleeping on the couch. I chose (a). The Sneedlet's response? Sorry Grandpa. What can you do?
This morning we are headed to Daughter Sneed's house to watch Sneedlet 1 open his gifts from Santa. Later they are coming here for dinner. Older Son Sneed has other family commitments with his in-laws.
Today is developing as another day of stuffing myself and wishing I hadn't.
Best Wishes. 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
Dec 24, 2006
There's No Saint Merle, But There Ought To Be
The Sneedlet is staying with us until this evening. His dad is putting together something that he can't see just yet. He is shown here enjoying a cold juice box and watching 'kid's shows' from the comfort of his Thomas the Tank Engine bed.
This is the last of what I think we all hope will be my two-part (so far) rant about religious superstition. I wasn't intending for there to be a second part, after yesterday's rant, but it was forced upon me by lunacy, that I just can't ignore.
Here's a question. Which of the following statements is an actual superstitious practice, accepted by reasonably intelligent people, who can bath and feed themselves and hold regular jobs?
1. Clothes worn inside out will bring good luck.
2. A statute of St. Joseph buried upside down in your yard, accompanied by a prayer will cause your house to sell faster.
In our fair city, there are presently something like 9200 homes listed with the multiple listing service for sale. How bad is that you might ask? Well, there have never been even as many as 7000 homes listed prior to the current run up. In addition, the days that the average home remains for sale has increased to 60, another record.
The problem is that many people bought homes they couldn't afford, figuring that they could make a quick profit. Now they are desperate to sell. Plus, investor-types are dumping houses that they had hoped would bring them riches. Now that the market has slumped, they just want to get rid of them and are flooding the market.
So, what is the beleaguered homeowner to do? Fix up the house, cut the price, offer incentives? Sure, that all makes good sense. But what can a seller do to get that little extra push in their quest to sell? Why bury a statue of Saint Joseph, upside down in the yard, of course. Its just common sense. In fact, it makes so much sense that The Our Fair City Association of Realtors, is selling the statues for $5.75. Isn't there some constitutional separation of church and real estate? If not, its time.
Anyway, this is the drill, as quoted from an article in The Arizona Daily Star, Sunday edition, by it's writer, Joseph Barrios.
To help sell houses, agents and owners are buying statues of St. Joseph, and burying them upside down in the front yard. If you do that, the belief goes, and if you recite a prayer to the patron saint of carpenters and families, you will find a buyer for your home.
For those of you who doubt the validity of this practice, I offer what passes for proof of its effectiveness, to the gullible at least.
From a veteran real estate agent, "...in a market like this, you do what you have to. Paint the outside. Install new carpet. Pay half of closing costs.
But maybe that little plastic statue will be just the something extra you need," said Agent X, a Realtor with Tierra Antigua Realty. So, St. Joe will put you over the top, just don't try to get him on board with a dump. Fix that sucker up before you try to sell. After all, old St. Joe has a rep to protect.
Another agent added an important strategic point. "I wait until they're really, really, really distressed and not moving. In a market like this, it's too tempting to use it too early," said Agent Y, with Long Realty. Is he kidding me?
Later Agent Y added, "You can't go out and sell a $200,000 home for $300,000 and expect it to sell," Trudeau said. "The ones that I did it with, they were not bad locations. They weren't backed up to a big manufacturing company with big smokestacks sticking out. They weren't bad houses, they just weren't moving." So, important point two is St. Joe isn't up for jacking-up-the price and laying it on him to fix.
How, you might wonder, does our local Catholic church feel about this practice? A spokesman for the diocese pointed out that there is a fine line between spirituality and superstition. Candles, medal, pictures, while not holy, connect the faithful to their religion. He isn't really buying the old St. Joe in the real estate biz. I guess I don't get why lighting a candle for an intention is materially different than burying a hunk of plastic in your yard. I may be a cynic, but I'm betting that if the church had a real estate sales division, this would be viewed with a more sympathetic eye.
A deacon at a local church, also called St. Joseph's, said that while he wouldn't do it (bury the statue), anything that connects people to God, is a good thing. I would add, if you can sell a house in the process, so much the better.
I have to say that I remain unconvinced. The tried and true formula for selling a house has three components, location, condition and price. St. Joe can't help with any of them, not that I am conceding the existence of Saint Anybody.
So, back to the question. Which superstition is believed by otherwise reasonable people? Of course, both are. It is just that if you go out wearing clothes inside out, people will think you are crazy. Bury a religious statue? People will say, "It's not my belief, but it may work for them." Religion gives cover to a lot of nonsense.
Crazy is crazy.
Merle.
All quotes in this post were reported by Joseph Barrios and are property of the Arizona Daily Star. Merle Sneed sincerely hopes this doesn't violate some copyright deal.
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
This is the last of what I think we all hope will be my two-part (so far) rant about religious superstition. I wasn't intending for there to be a second part, after yesterday's rant, but it was forced upon me by lunacy, that I just can't ignore.
Here's a question. Which of the following statements is an actual superstitious practice, accepted by reasonably intelligent people, who can bath and feed themselves and hold regular jobs?
1. Clothes worn inside out will bring good luck.
2. A statute of St. Joseph buried upside down in your yard, accompanied by a prayer will cause your house to sell faster.
In our fair city, there are presently something like 9200 homes listed with the multiple listing service for sale. How bad is that you might ask? Well, there have never been even as many as 7000 homes listed prior to the current run up. In addition, the days that the average home remains for sale has increased to 60, another record.
The problem is that many people bought homes they couldn't afford, figuring that they could make a quick profit. Now they are desperate to sell. Plus, investor-types are dumping houses that they had hoped would bring them riches. Now that the market has slumped, they just want to get rid of them and are flooding the market.
So, what is the beleaguered homeowner to do? Fix up the house, cut the price, offer incentives? Sure, that all makes good sense. But what can a seller do to get that little extra push in their quest to sell? Why bury a statue of Saint Joseph, upside down in the yard, of course. Its just common sense. In fact, it makes so much sense that The Our Fair City Association of Realtors, is selling the statues for $5.75. Isn't there some constitutional separation of church and real estate? If not, its time.
Anyway, this is the drill, as quoted from an article in The Arizona Daily Star, Sunday edition, by it's writer, Joseph Barrios.
To help sell houses, agents and owners are buying statues of St. Joseph, and burying them upside down in the front yard. If you do that, the belief goes, and if you recite a prayer to the patron saint of carpenters and families, you will find a buyer for your home.
For those of you who doubt the validity of this practice, I offer what passes for proof of its effectiveness, to the gullible at least.
From a veteran real estate agent, "...in a market like this, you do what you have to. Paint the outside. Install new carpet. Pay half of closing costs.
But maybe that little plastic statue will be just the something extra you need," said Agent X, a Realtor with Tierra Antigua Realty. So, St. Joe will put you over the top, just don't try to get him on board with a dump. Fix that sucker up before you try to sell. After all, old St. Joe has a rep to protect.
Another agent added an important strategic point. "I wait until they're really, really, really distressed and not moving. In a market like this, it's too tempting to use it too early," said Agent Y, with Long Realty. Is he kidding me?
Later Agent Y added, "You can't go out and sell a $200,000 home for $300,000 and expect it to sell," Trudeau said. "The ones that I did it with, they were not bad locations. They weren't backed up to a big manufacturing company with big smokestacks sticking out. They weren't bad houses, they just weren't moving." So, important point two is St. Joe isn't up for jacking-up-the price and laying it on him to fix.
How, you might wonder, does our local Catholic church feel about this practice? A spokesman for the diocese pointed out that there is a fine line between spirituality and superstition. Candles, medal, pictures, while not holy, connect the faithful to their religion. He isn't really buying the old St. Joe in the real estate biz. I guess I don't get why lighting a candle for an intention is materially different than burying a hunk of plastic in your yard. I may be a cynic, but I'm betting that if the church had a real estate sales division, this would be viewed with a more sympathetic eye.
A deacon at a local church, also called St. Joseph's, said that while he wouldn't do it (bury the statue), anything that connects people to God, is a good thing. I would add, if you can sell a house in the process, so much the better.
I have to say that I remain unconvinced. The tried and true formula for selling a house has three components, location, condition and price. St. Joe can't help with any of them, not that I am conceding the existence of Saint Anybody.
So, back to the question. Which superstition is believed by otherwise reasonable people? Of course, both are. It is just that if you go out wearing clothes inside out, people will think you are crazy. Bury a religious statue? People will say, "It's not my belief, but it may work for them." Religion gives cover to a lot of nonsense.
Crazy is crazy.
Merle.
All quotes in this post were reported by Joseph Barrios and are property of the Arizona Daily Star. Merle Sneed sincerely hopes this doesn't violate some copyright deal.
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
Dec 23, 2006
Want Soup With That Sandwich?
Diane Duyser holding her miracle grilled cheese sandwich. She credits the sandwich, which she says has the image of the Virgin Mary on it, with bringing her good luck at a casino. What else would the Virgin Mary want for the faithful but good luck gambling? Although I have never seen a photo of her, I rather think it looks like Emily Bronte, judging from illustrations of the day.
You'll have to judge for yourself.
Additionally, Mrs. Duyer, says the sandwich has remained intact for ten years with no preservation measures. The most miraculous part of the story is that some lunkheads gave her $28,000 for it.
Maybe its just me, but I think if you are hustling religious icons, the black lipstick, blond fright wig is not the best look. Or perhaps it is.
You'll have to judge for yourself.Additionally, Mrs. Duyer, says the sandwich has remained intact for ten years with no preservation measures. The most miraculous part of the story is that some lunkheads gave her $28,000 for it.
Maybe its just me, but I think if you are hustling religious icons, the black lipstick, blond fright wig is not the best look. Or perhaps it is.
I wonder why it is our nature to believe in supernatural stuff? Some people are very invested in the idea of UFOs, ghosts and all sorts of paranormal stuff. Some folks are convinced that exotic sounding Chinese herbs can cure what modern medicine can't. Many people have religious superstitions. Lots of us prefer to believe the fantastic over the simple.
I was reading this morning about a Virgin Mary sighting in Las Vegas. This happens all the time, as you no doubt know. It seems a fellow noticed a stain on a retaining wall at his house that looked to him like an image of Mary, or at least what he thought Mary looks like based upon historical works of art. Isn't it amazing that the apparitions always look like those depicted by Renaissance artists?
As is the custom in these cases, the faithful swear its her, the skeptics are skeptical and some people are on the fence. In this case, the homeowner and rational investigators have pronounced it salt leaching from the blocks used to construct the wall. True believers are quick to point out that the Queen of Heaven could appear in any fashion, even salt residue and are unmoved by the finding. Oh, well.
The commonality of the Virgin Mary sightings is that they invariably fall into one of two categories. They are either the uncorroborated eye witness testimony of a single person, such as in the purported appearances at Lourdes and Guadalupe, or they are images that could be seen as the Virgin Mary if you believe they are and stand at the right angle, in the right light. Neither is proof of anything.
I always ask myself why wouldn't a supernatural being, if such a thing existed, leave some proof, if it were trying to make itself known? Appear to a bunch of folks or appear where you can be taped, if you want to be taken seriously. Of course the answer is that these things are the product of what we wish to be true.
For example, the parents of funny looking kids don't see them as funny looking. They see them as beautiful. I look in the mirror and see a guy who looks pretty good for his age, others might have a more realistic view. We look for confirming evidence of what we want to be true or already believe.
There was a case in Texas recently where water began to shoot from a tree like a water fountain. Many people thought it was a miracle and lined up to pray, gives thanks or merely gawk. Some filled bottles with this "holy water". Close investigation found a broken line water beneath the tree. Water had found a channel in the trunk of the tree, acting as a natural water pipe. It also turned out that the water coming from the tree had a high level of contaminants, so bottling the water was a bad idea.
In the history of mankind there has been no scientifically verified supernatural event, so I would hold off on jumping to belief in these things. But that's just me.
In other news, the lovely Mrs. Sneed, Sneddlet and I had to go to the mall this afternoon. It was mayhem. Sneedlet is a little sick with a cold, so while Mrs. Sneed was in a store, we sat on the floor leaning against the wall. In that position I get a butt-level view of the world passing by. That's not the angle you want to have, believe you 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
I was reading this morning about a Virgin Mary sighting in Las Vegas. This happens all the time, as you no doubt know. It seems a fellow noticed a stain on a retaining wall at his house that looked to him like an image of Mary, or at least what he thought Mary looks like based upon historical works of art. Isn't it amazing that the apparitions always look like those depicted by Renaissance artists?
As is the custom in these cases, the faithful swear its her, the skeptics are skeptical and some people are on the fence. In this case, the homeowner and rational investigators have pronounced it salt leaching from the blocks used to construct the wall. True believers are quick to point out that the Queen of Heaven could appear in any fashion, even salt residue and are unmoved by the finding. Oh, well.
The commonality of the Virgin Mary sightings is that they invariably fall into one of two categories. They are either the uncorroborated eye witness testimony of a single person, such as in the purported appearances at Lourdes and Guadalupe, or they are images that could be seen as the Virgin Mary if you believe they are and stand at the right angle, in the right light. Neither is proof of anything.
I always ask myself why wouldn't a supernatural being, if such a thing existed, leave some proof, if it were trying to make itself known? Appear to a bunch of folks or appear where you can be taped, if you want to be taken seriously. Of course the answer is that these things are the product of what we wish to be true.
For example, the parents of funny looking kids don't see them as funny looking. They see them as beautiful. I look in the mirror and see a guy who looks pretty good for his age, others might have a more realistic view. We look for confirming evidence of what we want to be true or already believe.
There was a case in Texas recently where water began to shoot from a tree like a water fountain. Many people thought it was a miracle and lined up to pray, gives thanks or merely gawk. Some filled bottles with this "holy water". Close investigation found a broken line water beneath the tree. Water had found a channel in the trunk of the tree, acting as a natural water pipe. It also turned out that the water coming from the tree had a high level of contaminants, so bottling the water was a bad idea.
In the history of mankind there has been no scientifically verified supernatural event, so I would hold off on jumping to belief in these things. But that's just me.
In other news, the lovely Mrs. Sneed, Sneddlet and I had to go to the mall this afternoon. It was mayhem. Sneedlet is a little sick with a cold, so while Mrs. Sneed was in a store, we sat on the floor leaning against the wall. In that position I get a butt-level view of the world passing by. That's not the angle you want to have, believe you 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
Dec 22, 2006
I took this picture on my way to Hootenany Holler today. I think the cave looks interesting.
Sadie the Wonder Mutt is at her new home. Its a farm in Iowa, where she will have other dogs to play with, room to run free and children that will love her. Wait, that's where my mother said she took my German Shepard, Missy, when she really took her to the pound to be euthanized. I get confused.
No, Sadie is at one of my favorites places. Its a little place I like to think of as somewhere else. Actually, my coworker took her. She had two beagles and her 10 year-old dog died, leaving a grieving companion. Sadie will be its new pal. I didn't so much rid my self of a lot of bother, as I contributed to the cause of animal welfare. I'm a hell of a guy, come to think of it.
The lovely Mrs. Sneed and I have an unfortuate situation, grandchild speaking. Our adopted son, Cletus, is a bum. His girlfriend is also a bum, just not quite so much as Cletus. Together they have three little girls that we rarely see. In fact we haven't seen the older two since last Christmas I think, and I have never seen the one year-old, that I recall. Mrs. Sneed saw her because she was born at the same hospital where the lovely Mrs. Sneed works.
The children live with their maternal grandparents not exactly in the middle of nowhere, but you can definitely see the middle of nowhere from their house. Since we really don't know the maternal grandparents, we couldn't really come knocking at their door, even if we were inclined to. The little girls are more like the children of a former neighbor that you might send a card to on special occasions than grandchildren. Plus it is not wise to become attached to them because they might vanish at any moment and we have had our share of heartache already. So we keep our distance. Even when they lived with mom and dad we rarely saw them, except when the parents used them as bait to get money from us.
This morning the lovely Mrs. Sneed gathered up the gifts for the girls from us and their aunt and uncle and I set out to deliver them to their home out in the desert somewhere. I called last evening to see if today would be okay for the delivery today and I was assured that it was. Be here all day, not a problem, come on out anytime.
Needless to say, in typical Sneed fashion, there was no one home. This isn't a place where you can just head home and come back later. It is an hour or so from here, down the interstate, turn left, turn left, go straight for 15 miles, turn left on the dirt road, right on the next one, third trailer on the left.
I rang their bell about ten times, called their number and I could hear the phone ring, but no one answered. So I left the gifts in their shed and hoped it would work out. Throughout the day I called a dozen times with no answer. So much for the home all day story.
I just got off the phone with the grandfather and they just got home. No explanation, on apology, no we forgot, no nothing. Perhaps you see why we have this arm's-length relationship.
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
Sadie the Wonder Mutt is at her new home. Its a farm in Iowa, where she will have other dogs to play with, room to run free and children that will love her. Wait, that's where my mother said she took my German Shepard, Missy, when she really took her to the pound to be euthanized. I get confused.
No, Sadie is at one of my favorites places. Its a little place I like to think of as somewhere else. Actually, my coworker took her. She had two beagles and her 10 year-old dog died, leaving a grieving companion. Sadie will be its new pal. I didn't so much rid my self of a lot of bother, as I contributed to the cause of animal welfare. I'm a hell of a guy, come to think of it.
The lovely Mrs. Sneed and I have an unfortuate situation, grandchild speaking. Our adopted son, Cletus, is a bum. His girlfriend is also a bum, just not quite so much as Cletus. Together they have three little girls that we rarely see. In fact we haven't seen the older two since last Christmas I think, and I have never seen the one year-old, that I recall. Mrs. Sneed saw her because she was born at the same hospital where the lovely Mrs. Sneed works.
The children live with their maternal grandparents not exactly in the middle of nowhere, but you can definitely see the middle of nowhere from their house. Since we really don't know the maternal grandparents, we couldn't really come knocking at their door, even if we were inclined to. The little girls are more like the children of a former neighbor that you might send a card to on special occasions than grandchildren. Plus it is not wise to become attached to them because they might vanish at any moment and we have had our share of heartache already. So we keep our distance. Even when they lived with mom and dad we rarely saw them, except when the parents used them as bait to get money from us.
This morning the lovely Mrs. Sneed gathered up the gifts for the girls from us and their aunt and uncle and I set out to deliver them to their home out in the desert somewhere. I called last evening to see if today would be okay for the delivery today and I was assured that it was. Be here all day, not a problem, come on out anytime.
Needless to say, in typical Sneed fashion, there was no one home. This isn't a place where you can just head home and come back later. It is an hour or so from here, down the interstate, turn left, turn left, go straight for 15 miles, turn left on the dirt road, right on the next one, third trailer on the left.
I rang their bell about ten times, called their number and I could hear the phone ring, but no one answered. So I left the gifts in their shed and hoped it would work out. Throughout the day I called a dozen times with no answer. So much for the home all day story.
I just got off the phone with the grandfather and they just got home. No explanation, on apology, no we forgot, no nothing. Perhaps you see why we have this arm's-length relationship.
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
Giving
I was thinking about giving today for a couple of reasons and the holiday season wasn't really either of them. Specifically, I was thinking about the strings we attach to our giving to others.
My friend at work was pissed off because a guy in front of the WalMart approached her with a story about a pregnant wife and no food and no job and loads of trouble. He asked her if she could help him out. She dug around in her purse and gave him a ten, in the spirit of Christmas. She felt pretty good about it, that is until she ran into Herbert, the WalMart greeter.
Herbert asked her if she had given that guy money and when she said yes, he told her the guy was a con man, probably a druggie too. She came back to the office fuming that the guy lied to her and vowing to never give a panhandler any money ever again.
That seems like an overreaction to me and makes me suspect that she has more going on than being angy that a panhandler got over on her. Whatever the motive of the needy fellow, her intention in giving remains pure and completely intact, unless she wasn't giving as much as buying some power over someone else.
What occurs to me and something I've always tried to practice, is the understanding that if I make the decision to give someone money, it is out of my control once the money leaves my hand. I made the decision to give. What they do with it is on them. All I can do is hope that it finds a good use and it does me no good to be angry about it if it doesn't,
Also, I was listening to the Dave Ramsey show and he was having a "theme hour" where he only took calls about people's giving experiences. People called in to share how they gave to others. One woman handed out cash to strangers who looked as though they needed some. Another woman paid for someone's gasoline. Someone else took flowers to people in nursing homes. These were all fine acts of kindness by decent people. It also creeped me out.
I really get uneasy when someone who does something nice or gives money to others feels like they have to tell people about it. This is just one of my many quirks. I think giving ought to be done without fanfare and without expecting recognition for it. Is this giving or is it buying the right to impress others with your generousity? Hmm.
Years ago I remember reading in the newspaper about a good-works type group at a church, here in our fair city, that called themselves, Those Who Care. Perhaps that makes the rest of us Those Who Don't. It rubbed me wrong to hear that and I would have been embarrassed to belong to their group. Perhaps that is my ego trip, who knows?
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
Dec 20, 2006
A Day Off Fell From The Heavens
I consider myself to be the world's foremost expert on an important work-related topic. I am the man to see for avoiding work and work-avoidance related matters. Imagine my surprise today to learn that I missed something important.
I was sitting in my cubicle this morning and one of the contract employees came in to see me. She wanted to know if I would be coming into the office on Friday. The contract employees are not allowed to work in the office unless there is a regular employee present. Evidently, someone thinks they might steal the furniture unless someone has a eye on them.
As an aside, I would be the last guy to put in charge of watching the contractors, because I basically trust everyone, so they could carry out my desk and I would never suspect them. I might not notice the missing desk until I leaned back and put my feet up, only to find them in mid-air.
Anyway, I told this person that I would be in Friday, because I'm down to three days off for this year and I have them scheduled for next week. She looked at kind of puzzled and said, "Friday's a holiday." To which I confidently replied, "Are you nuts?"
Well it turns out that Friday is a holiday for us because Christmas Eve falls on the weekend. I was delighted and flabbergasted at the same time. This is the greatest Christmas gift I can imagine. It is disconcerting to me though, because me missing a holiday from work is like the pilot of your flight asking over the PA system if anyone knows how to start the plane, or your surgeon looking down at you on the operating table and asking which implement is a scalpel. It just doesn't happen.
I was also thinking today about how I used to feel about Christmas when I was a kid. When I was young I would look forward to Christmas and two weeks off school. Then I would have a big letdown when it was over. I still feel this way. Once the holiday season is over, the tedium of the work routine will resume in earnest. I dread returning after the first of the year.
From Thanksgiving through the New Year's holiday, the opportunities to screw off both at work and away from work are plentiful. Many of my customers take extended time off, so I don't get many phone calls. I have errands to run and things to do. Plus, the way our time off policy works I always have a bunch of time off remaining that has to be taken. My company doesn't let us accrue time off, so it is use it or lose it. So I use it.
I may have posted this before, but several years ago, I had a boss who really took the job seriously. She felt as though she made a real difference. I got to November with all of my time off allotment remaining because of a project that I had been working on all year. I called her to tell her that I would be off from Thanksgiving through the New Year. She intimated that I give back some of the time because she always gives back two weeks a year. Isn't that special?
Anyway,this is truly the most wonderful time of the year, work-avoidance speaking 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
Dec 19, 2006
A Bunch Of Disconnected Thoughts
The lovley Mrs. Sneed loves to have an Amaryllis at Christmas. This is this year's model. Pretty nice, if you ask me.
I confess that I ate enough candy today to satisfy 10 normal people for a month. There must be a 12-step program for fools like me. Hello, I'm Merle and I like candy. I need a higher power to dope-slap me and make me stop. If only I believed in a higher power (other than the lovely Mrs. Sneed, of course). But regretfully its up to me to rein me in and after 56 years, I still haven't mastered that skill.
And then there's this. I've posted this before but road to financial stagnation, seems to include trips to WalMart in a taxicab. I have seen many people who take a cab to WalMart, but I saw a new variation on the theme today. This seemingly working-poor couple pulled up to the WalMart as I passed by this afternoon, got out, told the cabbie to wait and went inside to shop. The cabbie was still waiting when I went past again about 15 minutes later. What could they need at WalMart that would warrant having a cab standing by? No wonder the he little man can't get ahead, the little man is a dope.
Perhaps this seems obvious to you, but it is well established that the frequency of smoking is inversely related to income. So, everytime we up the cigarette tax, it increases the tax burden of the poor. This is why the government doesn't outlaw smokes, the tax revenue is too high. I figure it conservatively costs a person $1800 per year to smoke a pack a day. That would go a long way toward lifting them out of poverty.
I'm also reminded about a story in this morning's paper about how poor parents in our state can't afford daycare, since the state hasn't raised their subsidies to keep up with inflation. Some people pay as little as a dollar a day per kid and are complaining to the newspaper that they can't pay any more, including one woman who just can't go that extra buck a day she is faced with since her daycare center raised their rates. Wanna bet she that has a cell phone? I don't know how to respond to that line of thinking. There is no shortage of people telling us taxpayers that we need to do better.
Different subject. I asked my boss Kendall to let me take a day off next week without pay. He said no, which surprised me. My coworker is still off without pay to attend to her son, so I don't know why he would say no, but he did. Probably because he can. I have three days of time off remaining and next week has four workdays in it. I really hate to drive in to work for just one day. As a matter of fact the only things worse than driving in for one day, is driving in for two.
But wait, there's more! This evening the lovely Mrs. Sneed and I went to Target to pick up some stuff. We noticed that the grocery store next door was to be surrounded by cop cars. Of course I had to go over to see if I could help. People were walking in and out of the store like nothing was wrong, so I went in too.
The bank inside the store was wrapped in yellow crime scene tape and was being attended to by 10 cops. The employees of the bank were trapped behind the counters and milling around, looking bored. I wandered over to a grocery store employee standing 4 feet from the tape and asked her what was up. She said she didn't know. Sure. I know it was a robbery, but I need details, do you hear me, details!
At last, the end is here. Sadie the Wonder Mutt is going to a new home. She was supposed to be a companion dog for younger son Sneed, but that didn't work out and her care and attending has fallen to yours truly. I frankly don't have the interest or the time to properly care for a dog, especially one as active as Sadie. My friend has Beagles and would like to have her, so sometime between now and the weekend I will be dropping her off at her new home where she will enjoy the company of another of her breed.
The lovely Mrs. Sneed has proclaimed Casa Sneed to be a pet-free zone. Here's hoping it remains that way for year's to come.
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
I confess that I ate enough candy today to satisfy 10 normal people for a month. There must be a 12-step program for fools like me. Hello, I'm Merle and I like candy. I need a higher power to dope-slap me and make me stop. If only I believed in a higher power (other than the lovely Mrs. Sneed, of course). But regretfully its up to me to rein me in and after 56 years, I still haven't mastered that skill.
And then there's this. I've posted this before but road to financial stagnation, seems to include trips to WalMart in a taxicab. I have seen many people who take a cab to WalMart, but I saw a new variation on the theme today. This seemingly working-poor couple pulled up to the WalMart as I passed by this afternoon, got out, told the cabbie to wait and went inside to shop. The cabbie was still waiting when I went past again about 15 minutes later. What could they need at WalMart that would warrant having a cab standing by? No wonder the he little man can't get ahead, the little man is a dope.
Perhaps this seems obvious to you, but it is well established that the frequency of smoking is inversely related to income. So, everytime we up the cigarette tax, it increases the tax burden of the poor. This is why the government doesn't outlaw smokes, the tax revenue is too high. I figure it conservatively costs a person $1800 per year to smoke a pack a day. That would go a long way toward lifting them out of poverty.
I'm also reminded about a story in this morning's paper about how poor parents in our state can't afford daycare, since the state hasn't raised their subsidies to keep up with inflation. Some people pay as little as a dollar a day per kid and are complaining to the newspaper that they can't pay any more, including one woman who just can't go that extra buck a day she is faced with since her daycare center raised their rates. Wanna bet she that has a cell phone? I don't know how to respond to that line of thinking. There is no shortage of people telling us taxpayers that we need to do better.
Different subject. I asked my boss Kendall to let me take a day off next week without pay. He said no, which surprised me. My coworker is still off without pay to attend to her son, so I don't know why he would say no, but he did. Probably because he can. I have three days of time off remaining and next week has four workdays in it. I really hate to drive in to work for just one day. As a matter of fact the only things worse than driving in for one day, is driving in for two.
But wait, there's more! This evening the lovely Mrs. Sneed and I went to Target to pick up some stuff. We noticed that the grocery store next door was to be surrounded by cop cars. Of course I had to go over to see if I could help. People were walking in and out of the store like nothing was wrong, so I went in too.
The bank inside the store was wrapped in yellow crime scene tape and was being attended to by 10 cops. The employees of the bank were trapped behind the counters and milling around, looking bored. I wandered over to a grocery store employee standing 4 feet from the tape and asked her what was up. She said she didn't know. Sure. I know it was a robbery, but I need details, do you hear me, details!
At last, the end is here. Sadie the Wonder Mutt is going to a new home. She was supposed to be a companion dog for younger son Sneed, but that didn't work out and her care and attending has fallen to yours truly. I frankly don't have the interest or the time to properly care for a dog, especially one as active as Sadie. My friend has Beagles and would like to have her, so sometime between now and the weekend I will be dropping her off at her new home where she will enjoy the company of another of her breed.
The lovely Mrs. Sneed has proclaimed Casa Sneed to be a pet-free zone. Here's hoping it remains that way for year's to come.
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
Dec 18, 2006
Best Buy, ugh!
Best Buy, the giant retailer, is engaged in a program to stop customers from figuring out how to beat the system and score good stuff cheap and to focus on what they have identified as ideal customers. What they have done is put draconian procedures in place sure to piss me off.
The lovely Mrs. Sneed has been wishing for a flat panel TV for the bedroom, one that can be mounted on the wall. This would eliminate a giant piece of furniture that hold the current TV. The current TV is a huge black box, weighing so much that it could anchor a large ship. I nearly maimed myself hauling it to Goodwill yesterday.
Being the terrific fellow that I am, I hustled to the Best Buy store near my work and bought a 40" Samsung HD LCD set. The salesperson who sold it to me was knowledgeable and very attentive, ushering me from place to place with a dazzling array of stuff that I need to fully appreciate my soon-to-be new set. She was oh so helpful, that is, until I paid. Only then did I learn that she had a short-term memory problem, at least with respect to me.
She told me that she was going back to the warehouse to tag a set with my name so that I could come back after work to pick it up. She also said that she had just been back there for another customer and there were 5 units of the model I needed.
After work I went back to get it. As I walked into the store, my salesperson came out. I greeted her and said, "I'm comng for my TV set." She look at me, trying to figure out ho I was and finally asked me what set I was getting. When I reminded her, she said that she was just going to call me, because all three of the sets that they had on hand had been sold and that mine would not be in the store until Saturday, the 16th. What happened to the story about five sets?
On Saturday I called the store to confirm that my set was in. It was, so the lovely Mrs. Sneed and I went over after lunch. After some discussion we decided that the 40" set was too big, so I went and found the same salesperson who sold it to me to so that we could change to a smaller version. She had no recollection of having sold it to me, or the discussion we had in front of the store about when it would be in. She did concede that my face looked familiar, but she chuckled, I see a lot of customers.
We decided on a smaller set, she got it from the back room but when they tried to cancel the old order and ring up the new, the system told them that I had already picked it up. The cashier, the saleperson and the manager all asked me if I was sure I didn't have the set. I was pretty sure. This necessitated a box-to-box search of the warehouse to find the box with my name on it. This was the only way that they would believe that I hadn't already picked up the set. These darn shifty eyes always do me in.
Included in our purchase was a high definition DirecTV receiver, which was to be shipped to our house by the 18th, today. When I got home tonight, the UPS man had left a box on the porch. Rather than being the receiver, it was another TV set. Not the really good flat panel set that I had purchased, but another set none the less. I must admit that at this point, had it been the same as the one I bought, I would have kept it and my mouth shut. But since it was a cheap set, I figured I better call them.
I called the 800 number on my order form and was told that they could have UPS pick it up, but that it would result in an internal investigation as to how the TV was shipped rather than the DirecTV box and that this would hold up the order for some time. Their advice was to take the TV to the store and let them figure it out.
Tonight my younger son and I did just that. This resulted in the return clerk, the head return clerk, the operations lead (whatever that is) and the store manager all standing around scratching their collective heads and trying to figure out what to do. Eventually, they said they reordered the receiver and they took the errant TV set, but I'm sure they will screw up again before this is done. I will soon be at the store trying to prove to them that I didn't get my receiver.
Jackasses, the bane of my existence.
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
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