Remaking Fibbing Friday

Pensitivity101 said it was Time For Hit Remakes this week.  Who could have recorded the following (your nominations do not have to be singers) or had it for their signature tune?

Cinderella Rockefella

The San Francisco Boys Marching Band, with special guest Elton John, appearing on the Ru-Paul Drag Race TV show.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that!

2.   I want it all

Vladimir Putin!  😳

3.   I’m just a forlorn boy

Axe Body Spray bought the rights, and used the first eight bars in a commercial.  I’m just a lonely boy…. and showed some Incel dork looking forlorn and dateless.  Then the video moved on to show him dousing overly-liberal spraying himself with their toxic chemical miasma concoction, and suddenly he’s surrounded by 6 good-looking chicks, none of whom seem to mind the presence of the other five.

That advert campaign came to a sudden halt when truthinadvertising.com released a spoof version.  It intercut portions of the original showing Young Reekie, the Axe-man, then it showed six hot females gasping for breath, and grasping for N95 COVID masks and running away, showing that they had a sense of smell, and a sense of taste – or distaste.  👿

4.   Here comes the night

The Silicon Valley Bank Senior Management Choir.  Then they do a Patreon PSA video, titled,
What Happens In LA – stays in our Golden Handshake accounts.

5.   All I have to do is dream

Any new parent, especially new mothers.  When the Terrible Twos Twins are simultaneously teething, the police are getting noise complaints from your neighbours – not about your dog, but because of the yowling young-‘uns.  They never seem to achieve unconsciousness at the same time, so sleep is just something that you read about in a book one time, long, LONG ago.

6.   Wand’rin’ Star

That was Edwin Starr, who had a hit back in ‘69 which asked, “What is the good of war?”  Putin recently sent him a text that just read, “Posterity Project.”

Then he sent me one that absolutely, positively denied that I saw a Russian ZIL that read KGB, in last week’s alphabet soup.  Good thing I don’t own a smart phone, and never got it.  🙄

I tried to listen to the Portishead version of it, but the Suicide Hotline called ME, and told me to turn it off.  😦

7.    Rock On

Tina Turner has redone this old song.  She’s 85!  With a big front veranda, (and her house has one, too) and a mint julep, it has taken on a brand new meaning.  😉

8.   Purple Rain

I have adopted this, at least temporarily, as my Life Motto.  I have absorbed so much COVID sanitizer that when I pee, I also clean the toilet.

9.   When will I see You Again?

This is the new anthem for Beijing.  Between COVID masks, and the worst air quality in the word, it’s creating a lot of identity confusion, and causing some people who want to telephone someone they think they met on the street, to Wing the Wong number.

10.  You can’t hurry love

It’s still $4.99 a minute, but when you get as old as me, sometimes you have to change the batteries in your hearing aids.
EH??  What am I wearing?  Depends!  On What??  On my crotch!  I don’t think I trust an adult incontinence product named Depends any more.  I want one called Fer Shur, or Boulder Dam.

He Is Not A Pleasant Fellow

I am not a very pleasant fellow – as certified by my wife.

The son often reads Quora, an online discussion forum, which has the recurring theme, “Was I The Asshole?”  I did it again – or did I??!  You be the judge.

The wife and I entered a small variety store – think Wal-Mart-Lite.  As many stores do, the entrance aisle was narrow.  Ten feet in, the store had put clothing racks on either side, narrowing traffic even more.  Two corpulent women stood, examining clothing on one rack.  Their shopping cart was crossways to traffic flow, with its nose buried in the far rack.

We, and the couple behind us, could not proceed.  I reached ahead, and moved their cart parallel to the aisle.  We all started forward.  Just as we passed, I heard one woman complain, “He’s not a very pleasant fellow, is he?”  Despite the fact that the wife insists that I need hearing aids, I heard her mutter, “No, he’s not, is he?”

Now, some of my readers might be surprised, but being voted a pleasant fellow by a random idiot bunch of total strangers is not on my list of desired goals.  Then I started thinking about the encounter.  Just what would I have had to do to be considered pleasant??!  What did I do, to deserve such denigration?

I didn’t scream or yell.  I didn’t raise my voice.  I didn’t demand.  I didn’t curse and swear. I didn’t insult either of them.  I didn’t say a word.  I didn’t even require that one of them actually move the offending obstacle.

I could have put a smile in my big, stertorous, public-speaking voice, and sweetly asked, “Could someone please take their inattentive and exasperating head out of their Fucking ass and move this piece-of-shit cart, so that I can get into this God-damned store??!

But no!  This was more like a good day at work.  No-one actually died.  There wasn’t much blood, and the flames were quickly extinguished.  What does a fellow have to do to be declared polite and pleasant, and not get voted off the island?

Now it’s your turn to vote.  Was I the asshole??  Or just a pleasant, if not totally innocent, bystander?

I’ll tabulate the ballots on Friday.  No Fibbing.  😉

Gahh!! I’ve Been Shot

Just found out that I qualify for the Pfizer vaccine….
….Apparently if you buy 20,000 Viagra a year, you’re a preferred customer.

Despite the incompetence and disorganization of the Canadian Federal Government, the Provincial Government, the Waterloo Regional Council, and the local medical association regarding COVID19 vaccinations – the wife and I each managed to get our initial shot on Easter Sunday, April 3^rd.

The clinic was held at a new medical building, about a mile away.  This is where I took the wife last November, for her standard flu shot.  In the fall, they did a drive-thru system at one end of the building.  Since the main floor is not yet leased, with the volume of customers, this time we had to walk inside.

We were accosted by a greeter at the main door, who would not allow us in until we’d sworn that we were not suffering from a long list of medical ailments that I’m sure included leprosy.  I worry about the future of the human race.  There was enough hand sanitizer being splashed around to sterilize the entire next generation, not that it mattered to this crowd.  The clinic was for those over 70.  It looked like a false teeth and hearing aid sale down at Codgers-R-Us.

The bureaucratic duplication was thicker than usual.  The greeter directed us across the atrium, to a pre-screener, where we presented our health cards and gave our names, address, and birth dates.  This is something I learned to do long ago, when I received someone else’s dental anesthetic – plus my own.

We then proceeded to a screener in a large U-shaped room as big as half the building, which wrapped around the elevator shaft… where we presented our health cards and gave our names, address, and birth dates.  Following colorful dots on the floor that looked like the Easter Bunny had hopped through, the maitre d’ soon escorted us to a small table near the washrooms.

We were greeted by an Oriental man…. where we presented our health cards and gave our names, address, and birth dates.  He did not profess what medical training he might have.  He might have been the maintenance man, but he was quite quick and efficient.

We were given a cash register type of receipt, giving our names, Health Card number, date of injection, and the type of vaccine.  For the medically morbid, we did, in fact, receive Pfizer-Biontec COVID19 mRNA-PB.  He then directed us to a waiting area where we would be observed for any adverse reactions.

We sat for 15 minutes to prove that we could stand and move safely on our own, although there was a forest of canes and walkers.  Aside from possibly the hypo-wielders, most if not all of the attendants were volunteers – and there were a ton of them.  I don’t know how we maintained a 6-foot clearance.  The place looked more like the Wuhan wet market where COVID was born, than a socially-distanced medical recovery area.  It was like Jeff Foxworthy’s Grateful Dead Seniors Tour.  It’s Metamucil!  Take a hit. Pass it down.

I took the photo below as we left, during an unusual lull.  There were twice this many people when we sat down.  We then had to proceed to a liability-waiver, after-mission debriefing…. where we presented our health cards and gave our names, address, and birth dates – to prove that we were as hale and healthy leaving as we were when we arrived. We’re scheduled to go back for our second shot, and play this game again on Sunday, July 25th. 😯 For as many Stations Of The I-Was-Cross there were, it still moved though quickly and smoothly. Including the 15 minute cool-down period, we were in and out in half an hour.

If/when you get your chance, take it.  If I can do it, any wimp can do it.  The only reaction that I got was that the next day, I felt like the school-yard bully had punched my bicep.

Going Downhill Fast

For those of you who don’t believe that ‘powder’ belongs on doughnuts, here are

7 Funny Snowboard Jokes

1) What do you call a male snowboarder without a girlfriend? – Homeless.

2) This guy walks into a bar and says “Hey, you guys wanna hear a snowboard joke?” – The bartender says, “I’m a snowboarder. The guy on your right is a snowboarder – same with the guy on your left, and the fellow behind you.” So the guy says, “OK.    I’ll   tell    it   a   little    more    slowly    then…”

3) Three snowboarders are in a car. Who’s driving? – The police.

4) What is the difference between a snowboarder and a large pizza? – A pizza can feed a family of four.

5) What does a snowboarder have in common with a vacuum cleaner? – How you attach the dirt bag.
6) How does a snowboarder introduce himself? –  “Look out!…. My bad!….”

7) What is the difference between a snowboard instructor and a snowboard student? – Three days.

***

 

I was at a restaurant and said to the waitress, ”Excuse me, can I ask you something about the menu please?”

She kicked me out and said “The men I please are none of your business!”
***

My dad was bragging about his new hearing aid. “State of the Art,” he said, “It cost me a fortune.”

I asked: “Awesome, what type is it? “

He said: “‘Two thirty.”

***

Tiger Woods & Stevie Wonder are in a bar…

Tiger says Stevie, “How’s the singing career going?”

Stevie replies, “Not too bad. How’s the golf?”

Woods replies, “I’ve had some problems with my swing, but I think I’ve got that right, now.”

Stevie: “I always find that when my swing goes wrong, I need to stop playing for a while and not think about it. Then, the next time I play, it seems to be all right.”

Amazed, Tiger says, “You play GOLF?”

Stevie: “Yes, I’ve been playing for years.”

Tiger: “But — you’re blind! How can you play golf if you can’t see?”

Stevie: “Well, I get my caddy to stand in the middle of the fairway and call to me. I listen for the sound of his voice and play the ball towards him. Then, when I get to where the ball lands, the caddy moves to the green or farther down the fairway and again I play the ball towards his voice.”

“But, how do you putt?” asks Tiger.

“Well”, says Stevie, “I get my caddy to lean down in front of the hole and call to me with his head on the ground and I just play the ball towards his voice.”

Tiger: “What’s your handicap?”

Stevie: “Well, actually — I’m a scratch golfer.”

Woods says to Stevie, “We’ve got to play a round sometime.”

Stevie: “Well, people don’t take me seriously, so I only play for money, and never play for less than $10,000 a hole. Is that a problem?”

Woods thinks about it and says, “I can afford that; OK, I’m game for that.. $10,000 a hole is fine with me. When would you like to play?”

Stevie:     “Pick a night.”

***

 

Thoughts On Aging

Just some observations on aging;
feel free to ignore if you’re young. 

You know you’re getting older when…

* when TGIF means “thank goodness I’m finished!” because you weren’t actually sure you could MAKE it through the week…

* when you double-book an evening out, not because you have an active social life, but because you forgot to write down your plans so you wouldn’t forget…

* when you watch an 89 yr. old co-worker hobble away and think to yourself, “man, I wish I could still move like that!”

* when your idea of a “perfect moment” involves a foam mattress pad and a cat…

* when “success” for you means the bills got paid on time because A. you managed to put in a full week’s work, and B. you remembered to pay them… (Thank you e-mail reminders)

* when someone asks you if you want to take a walk after work and you literally laugh out loud because you haven’t actually been able to walk after work in years… (especially on Friday!)

* when your choice of who to wake up with in the morning devolves to non-human species because, frankly, they are a lot less demanding and easier to deal with in the long run… (Mine has mottled fur and golden eyes)…

* when you start choosing food on a menu based on what you can chew, rather than on what actually looks good to eat…

*when the first word of every conversation you have is “what?” Followed immediately by “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear that.”

* when friends and co-workers watch you as walk by, just in case you choose that moment for a “random gravity check”…

* when the music you grew up with (and still love and listen to) is called “classic”…

*when you realize you’d never get through an hour long TV show without that magical rewind button (assuming you can find it, of course!)…

*when you can remember remembering your best friend’s phone number, but now you can’t remember how to look it up…

*when you remember baking your TV dinners in the oven for 35-40 minutes each (“you mean it’s a whole dinner ready in just 45 minutes?  Without using any pans or dishes?!  How cool is that?!”)…

*when you remember the anticipation you used to feel every time the phone rang, wondering who might be calling and if you should answer it.  And the frustration and mystery of not knowing who it was if you didn’t…

*when marketing groups start targeting you for life insurance and retirement homes…

* when panic sets in because you suddenly realize that book club is coming up and you haven’t done the reading yet… (and the fact that you actually wrote the book in question doesn’t help a bit, because you can’t remember what’s in those particular chapters!) and finally…

*when you write a list like this and have to keep checking it to make sure you haven’t repeated yourself…

Of course, in a few more years it probably won’t matter if I keep repeating myself, because I won’t remember to check!

 

I’m All Ears

Since the government agency wouldn’t accept Total Hearing’s proposal for the daughter’s hearing aids, she had to go to another hearing center, get her hearing retested and have another proposal sent in.  Because I/we provide most of her transportation, the wife and I went along and watched and listened.  The more we saw and heard, the more dissatisfied the wife became with both the hardware and the customer interaction.  With three of their number being charged with various frauds, there was no assurance that they would remain in business to provide future parts and service.  When they handed over the hearing aids, they verbally assured us that there was a 90-day return period, if we were not happy for any reason.

The wife decided to take them up on their offer, and we were immediately tangled in red tape.  They got our payment immediately, via MasterCard, but wanted four to six weeks to issue a refund cheque.  Yes, we could return the hearing aids….for a restocking charge, something not mentioned in the rush to get our money deposited.  They would return our money, less $150….per ear.  Damn!  That’s $600 dollars total, for the two of us, but it was the straw that broke the camel’s back.  It seemed well worth the money to get away from such an unreliable, unscrupulous bunch of money-grubbers.

We went to the Arnold Hearing Centre in Kitchener.  It’s the business base for four other Arnold Centres in the nearby Southern Ontario area.  From the time we walked in we felt comfortable.  They took the time, and provided information and support that Total Hearing never bothered to.  The hearing test was longer and more involved.  Data taken for our files was more extensive.  The staff was just more personable and helpful, rather than focussed on the sales bottom line.

The model of hearing aid we chose was a little more complex than the bottom of the barrel units foisted on us by Total Hearing.  We wound up shelling out another, extra $600, but the difference is noticeable.  They are slightly smaller and lighter.  They have a wider range of controls, and they come with a business-card sized remote control to direct them.  They’re even smart enough to have a little voice that tells you “battery”, when it’s time to replace them.

Arnolds included, not one, but two, boxes of batteries, for each of us, at no extra cost.  We had bought a box of batteries from Total Hearing, but they would not give a refund for the unused balance.  I asked if Arnolds would take them as an exchange, since they were a different size from the ones in the new units, and they were happy to do so.  In fact, the day we were there, our technician said that he was running a bit short of that particular size and could use them till new stock arrived.

The cost of the unit which plugs into a TV, and broadcasts directly to the ear is $300.  Arnolds was happy that we had decided to use their Centre but felt badly that we had been dinged on the refund at Total, so they included one, at no charge.  We took it home and plugged it in.  The first night we wanted to watch a movie, it was amazing.  Not only is there no straining to make out the dialog, it makes it feel as if you are standing in the middle of the action.  We watch a fair amount of British TV, including Miss Marple and Hercule Poirot.  Perhaps now, with our ears practically in the midst of the action, we will be able to forego the distracting subtitles to clearly catch the British-isms.  The most recent captioner for Poirot obviously doesn’t have the script, and makes mistakes even I can catch, especially when Hercule lapses into a bit of French.

I know that this post is probably uninteresting because it’s such a personal rant.  I just needed it, to vent my frustration at getting pulled in by some fast-talking snake-oil salesmen.  It’s also a cautionary tale for others, to think about any deal, especially one worth four thousand dollars.  After the fact, I can find no on-line review site for either the Total Hearing Centres, or the Arnold Hearing Centres, so I decided to post this to provide my own opinions about their relative merits and demerits.  If I can prevent even one potential Southern Ontario customer from being caught in the mercenary web of Total Hearing, it will have been worth it.

Please forgive my choler.  I will be back in a day or so with something a bit more universally interesting.  At least I hope it will be mildly interesting….I heard that!

Saturday The Fourteenth

On Saturday, the fourteenth, we got another call from the Money Mill doctors’ clinic.  The wife’s doctor is moving from family practice to Hematology.  She only works as a G. P. on Tuesdays and Thursdays.  She is taking the entire month of April as vacation.  They wanted us to come over on Sunday to see a replacement doctor, the cosmetic surgeon again, as it turned out.  I had already made plans to take the daughter and a friend of hers to the Free Thinkers luncheon on Sunday morning.  I expected to be home about 1 PM.  The wife wanted a phone call when we left.

The last time we had to go to the clinic, they had put up signs saying that you could phone in and put your name on the list and get an approximate serve-time.  That way you could sit at home or get a coffee at Tim Hortons and miss the wait at the clinic.  When you do show up, they give you one of those buzzy, light-flashing flying-saucers you get at The Outback.  We called the wife at one, and she called the clinic, only to find that the phone-ahead was cut off at noon, and all the good times were actually taken by ten.  We got there by two, were almost the last served, just before five.  The diagnosis was that her allergies cause constipation, and the Prescription was for another over-the-counter medication.  She says, if it’s important, they’ll insist that she come in during working hours for a scheduled visit, no more of these three-hour, wasted afternoons, which only cause more inhalant allergies.

The daughter managed to get another hearing test and recommendation, from a different hearing clinic.  Their submission was accepted by ODSP.  I drove her to pick up her new Hearing Assistors today.  The only thing left to do for paper-work is have her doctor sign the prescription sheet, so these nice people can get paid.  See above.  The doctor is on holiday.  The earliest appointment she could get was May 2.  They understand, and say they’ll wait.  Her units are far nicer than the ones the wife and I got.  She gets a business-card sized remote control.  She can turn the volume up and down on each. She can turn either, on or off.  She can switch from front mike, to rear, and with the purchase of an $80 box, she can plug into a stereo or TV, and have it broadcast directly to the units.  Our $2900 units won’t do any of that.  Hers were only $2500.  20/20 hindsight.  If only we’d gone here first.

We have an interesting way of celebrating Friday the Thirteenth, fairly locally.  Some of you may have heard of it.  It started way back in 1981.  As a gag, on a Friday the Thirteenth, 25 local bikers got together, and rode about sixty miles south, to a town on Lake Erie, called Port Dover.  They had a great day and each of them told two friends, and they told two friends, and so on and so on.   The next year there were over a hundred, and after that, it just took off.  It’s like the Canadian equivalent of the Sturgis meet.  Bikers now come from all over to attend.

The town of Port Dover is a little over 6000 population.  This year they had between six and eight thousand bikes.  Some of them had passengers, but the total estimated crowd was between fifty and seventy thousand people.  They close off the road into town, and only bikes get to enter.  Huge crowds of folks show up to mingle and watch.  Cars are parked along roads for miles.  Some farmers make more renting a field or two as parking lots, than they do on crops, the rest of the year.  There can be up to three FTTs a year, but they don’t always happen when the weather’s nice.  Even if they occur in Jan. or Feb., some of the boys still make the run.  Some of them run tricycles, some strap on a sidecar and some of them just fire up the Buick.

The residents of Port Dover have been interviewed over the years.  Aren’t you worried about drugs and drunks and violence?  The answer is always no!  Oh sure, with sixty thousand people in town, something always happens, but not usually from the bikers, who are on their best behavior.  It’s a great financial shot in the arm for the town, and the gawkers often return for a bit of tourism.  In the twenty years I rode a motorcycle, I often thought about taking the ride, but I was cheap and had too strong a work ethic.  It would have been fun, but I just couldn’t see losing a day’s pay.  I had hoped to be able to do it after I retired, but a dumb accident pretty much ruled that out.

What does or does not get printed in the papers can be interesting and amusing.  KayJai lives a thousand miles away, but today I read a story of a guy in her city, who dug up and carted off in his pickup, a tree from the landscaping at a new Canada Post building.  I howled at the line, “with Royal Newfoundland Constabulary in pursuit.”  I can just see the poor tree in the back of the truck.  That must have been like the OJ Simpson, low-speed chase.  She says they don’t hear about the Oktoberfest silliness that happens here, when we get eighty to a hundred thousand visitors.  Something to look forward to, fans.