Jukebox: So much for that trust concept

Finally. Finally! Score one for the Good guys!

After all of the whining, bitching, complaining, and crying, I am not in any way ready to declare any type of confidence in the American legal system. It simply is not a very good system, but, like the man said, "it's the best we got".  (Or something like that.) A long time believer in some type of system that treats all and rewards all equally, I have seen first hand what a farce that whole concept is.  It's a load of bullshit. Make no doubt about it:  Justice comes to those who have money.  If you don't have money, you can't  play in the American justice system.  Even then, it's not a sure bet.  Thank God, my fellow plaintiffs have stuck this whole thing out and kept making the sacrifices to keep it going.     As mentioned here before, though,  I like to gamble a little bit.  I study my odds and wager accordingly.    As my dear late Father (Executive Director Emeritus-in Memoriam)  more than once advised,  "sometimes you have to speculate in order to accumulate."   I do not gamble based on that advice, but, it does serve as a basis for decision making.    Yesterday, the odds worked in my favor.  

My ongoing  battle and lawsuit with the idiot judgment debtor is approaching the 5 year mark in August.  5 years!  My fellow plaintiffs and I won not only our case and judgment, but also were awarded attorney fees as well.  That does not happen!  It just doesn't.  But, we did; and we should be able to collect.  This idiot, however, has thwarted our every move to collect and has totally frustrated us in the fact that he has escaped responsibility for his actions.  He simply has not paid what he owes.  And a lot of the blame goes to the court system for allowing him to continually stall.  Stalls cost money.  And so far it has cost us money.  To date, he had only posted a bond totalling  $205,000 while accruing a debt far greater than that.    Problem?  Yep, I am what they called "undersecured".  Finally, yesterday in court once again, all of the  "woe is me, they are going to bankrupt me, I can't pay any more, I don't have any money, we are still in appeal" etc., and rest of the lame excuses came to a screeching halt when Sleepy the Judge finally woke up and slapped our boy with the decision that he has 20 days to come up with another $85K in cash (or cash bond).  Now we're talking'.  The beauty is that added to the previous $205K, that brings us up to a total of $290K and, voila, I am fully secured!    For you novice Perry Mason's  out there, allow me to translate:  Our costs are covered.  If When he loses  his appeal, the money comes to me and the rest of the good guys.  No foreclosing, no more legal actions, no more hearings (and no more monthly lawyer bills!)  As the meter on the right shows, as of today he owes something a bit north of   $253,000.  At the present rate of interest, we can go all the way till the end of 2013 and still be owed something like $275K.  Wanna keep stalling?  Go right ahead.  I will take the 12% court ordered interest all day long as long as you want to spread it out. I've waited nearly 5 years.  I can wait for a couple of 1000 dollars more.  

Bones! Analysis! "He's dead, Jim"

Or so it felt.

I am posting this message while recuperating in the FTI sick bay.  The rhythmic, intermittent beeps  of the  single AA battery  powered monitor is the only sound in the room.  Gazing around and marveling at the tools and methods we have at our disposal here used to help heal the sick, I am constantly amazed and thankful;  the Mayo clinic has nothing on us.  Jars of leeches, rusted hacksaws, and ground leaves and twigs for making an herbal tea certainly accomplish the tasks to stop bleeding, perform amputations, or rid one of those pesky headaches that the big boys use.  And all without that expensive technology.    The cheap-assed Board of Directors took some heat when initially setting up our infirmary, but now, it appears to have been a stroke of genius.  I truly am blessed.

I will recount the immediate past history of how I got here in the first place, below.  The details may be a bit unpleasant; the mental images a bit unsettling.  Now, with full disclosure,  I suggest the weak-kneed among our readership pass on today's posting and return again another day when we discuss something more benign, like newly discovered frugal habits of Dickie the Peap.  (Who knew pocket lint could be woven into a 4 x 5 area accent rug?) In the meantime, knowing that our loyal 2 member readership falls in one of 3 categories:

a) They mistakenly set this as their homepage and don't know how to change it, so, they have to come here;

b)  They think if they click on this page enough times, they will qualify for a free prize;

c)  They come here to just to make fun of me and leave some smart-assed crack to provoke me;

I will proceed while realizing that option "C"   is the heavy odds-on favorite as the correct answer.

Sunday night at approximately 12:30 am, I awoke to my stomach gurgling and growling and a sudden convulsion that shook me all the way up to my throat; I figure I better get to the restroom.  Fast.  Kicking the covers off, I made into the restroom and stood there, Nothing.  Now, there normally aren't false alarms on this kind of stuff, so, I thought I would hang out for a few minutes.  I lifted the toilet seat and sat down on the floor next to the toilet.  Sure enough, about 30 seconds later, the wave started up from my midsection and I wretch just enough to get a bit of food out, but nothing significant.  Of course, the fact that my body gave it a full effort does not come into play.  A little or a lot, it still hurts.   I sound like a wounded Zombie as I lean over and spew.  Oh, no.  Realizing this wasn't going to be very pleasant, I wait there again for wave number 2.  As I am sitting on the floor and preparing for the next grand event,  I realize the sensation of a relaxed sphincter muscle now starting to make it's presence known as well.  Oh-oh.  Double trouble,  I am on the floor scrambling to get up and sit on the pot while furiously tugging at my underwear to clear the drop zone.  Sure enough, BAM!  Now I have got it going at both ends.  This scenario continued every half hour until 5 am with little to no sleep involved.   In the meantime, I alternate between cold shivering chills and dripping sweat  while I am on my knees paying homage to the porcelain God.  Finally, at 5 a.m. I cleared everything out and was able to fall asleep.    A bonus side effect if this whole matter?     It's so pleasant to feel that acid taste on your lips and inside of your mouth.  Of course, when I try to drink a bit of water to clear it, I end up tossing that right back  up as well.

I thought this was all related to the flu, but have since determined that Marv the Neighbor and his wife were sick as well Sunday night.  The significance of that?   Mrs. Kfred and I and he and his wife went out to dinner at a BBQ place Saturday night.  3 of the 4 of us ate potato salad.  Guess which 3 got sick in exactly the same manner?  I didn't have the flu.  I got food poisoning.  I always thought food poisoning came on quicker, but, subsequent research shows that it has a 12 to 72 hour incubation period.  I called the restaurant to notify them and, of course, mine was the first call.  I wasn't calling to threaten or beg a free meal.  I just wanted them to realize they may have a problem and to address their food handling procedures.   The manager at the end of the line was sympathetic and concerned, but, I didn't get the feeling that she thought they were involved.  Oh well.

I have had food poisoning one other time.  It is not pleasant. I am feeling a bit better today but will not be going to Dilbertland today, either.  I just am not up to my full strength.  Spring and summer are a comin'.  Picnics, barbeque's, out door meals are all a bunch of fun.  Just make sure when you load up on that second helping of Aunt Mae's famous potato salad that it has been handled correctly.  It isn't as great coming out as it was going in.      

 

Why, it's actually quite simple.....

It's a big-ass balloon.

Some simple writing rules

Writing on a semi-frequently basis for entertainment-only purposes, I face many challenges in order to keep our 2 loyal readers engaged.  Finding practical topics, timely subject matter, providing hard hitting and meaningful analysis, and  being aware of the need to observe proper rules of  writing  dictate I beware of many needs simultaneously.  The writing part is especially important as it give me credibility and the appearance of professionalism. With that in mind, I came across some rules that makes any writer's job a bit easier and wish to share a bit of them here.

*  Comparisons are as bad as cliches
*  One should never generalize
*  Profanity sucks
*  Avoid being redundant, don't use more words than necessary.  It's highly     superfluous.
*  Prepositions are not words to end sentences with.

I think you get the idea.  I might violate these basics from time to time, but, it certainly isn't intentional.  My purpose of this whole exercise is to get one to think.   After all, who needs rhetorical questions?    

JUKEBOX: Happy Birthday, Dear

This is a true collectors item

Mrs Kfred and I bank with the folks at Chase Bank. Through the years, they have done a good job for us and, except for one time they had to become "re-educated" about customer service, I have been pleased. They have, however, now upped their game with a convenience that is very meaningful to me.

With the advent of electronic banking and on-line deposits, I now have the ability to make deposits from the comfort of the FTI compound without ever leaving it. Adorned in my official FTI bunny slippers and smartly tailored Snuggy (That is kind of an oxymoron isn't it? tailored Snuggy. hmm, oh well.) I can use my cell phone camera to take both front and back images of any check I receive, transmit it to the bank and they deposit it into my account. Pretty cool. The beauty of all of this? This past week, one of the checks I deposited was from Dickey the Peap. The little miser had a failure in his vault last week while counting his money and a malfunction causing an emergency lockdown was commenced as he was twirling around, throwing money in the air, screaming, "Mine, mine. It's all mine". Recognizing he would be trapped and locked inside for the mandatory 24 hours before automatically releasing itself, with sirens blaring, high energy halide lights flashing, and the immobilizing sleeping gasses starting to seap inside, he somehow performed an Indiana Jones type move, leapt for the door, slid under the lowering iron wall, and escaped with only a single dollar bill. This is all meaningful as he was to meet with me to conduct a small business transaction later in the day. While doing so, he relayed this story to me and pleaded he didn't have any cash in order to close the deal. I gave him $105 in cash receiving assurances I would be paid back immediately. I actually didn't have any concerns about this, but, did wish I had some way to immortalize it. Yesterday, I go to the mailbox and, lo and behold, what do I find but a check addressed to me from Mrs. D. the P.  

Now, back to the technology part:  With the advent of the online deposit, I don't have to make a cheap photocopy of this valuable, rare, piece of paper.  I have a signed  original and yet have realized the value of it by having the bank "cash" it for me.  Win/win.    

Result? The original check is displayed prominently in a stylish frame in the FTI trophy room. I can think of no other representation of anything more valuable to me. I truly bagged the big one.

Jukebox: Today's Forecast

Like a bad habit, I am back.

The fact that neither of our 2 faithful readers have commented on my extended absence from this blog warms my heart and confirms to me that our low expectations here at FTI are at the proper level. With that out of the way, I do wish to make some commentary:

Are people surprised and is it really newsworthy that Lance Armstrong went on Oprah to admit to illegal doping and cheating while winning 7 Tour de France racing titles? What did people think he was going to tell Oprah? She really does have a way with people to get them to admit things. In an unrelated issue, we can confirm that Dickey the Peap also recently sat down for a similar no-holds-barred type of interview with the queen of talk. Show insiders are sworn to secrecy but whispers indicate that the short-armed one is going to come out and admit to years of being cheap as well.

My recent installation attempt of a rooftop based weather center here at the FTI compound was met with total and utter failure, an actual real life observation of the concepts of gravity, and ultimately, being out an additional $46.95 (plus shipping). I received a newer weather center for Christmas and while on the roof recently to install the wind meter (anonometer), the damn thing slipped out of my hands, tumbled down the frosty roof,cracked while hitting the rain gutter, came apart when landing on the deck, bounced through the railing, and disintegrated upon impact onto the ground. Lesson here? Look at the trees to determine wind velocity and direction.

Lastly, an update on the legal front: The updated judgment debtor deadbeat meter to the right has been updated and shown to reflect the amount of money we will never see. The continuing stalling and refusal of our legal system to make people accountable for their actions truly is disheartening. Once again, if you ever, EVER, contemplate a lawsuit, even when you are 100% in the right, run in the opposite direction. It's not worth it.

Jukebox: Where we are kicking the fiscal can