Cue the Fat Lady

Well, finally.  It's just about over; not totally closed and I have been down this road many times before, but, this time though, the fat lady is in the wings warming up.  And she is loud, proud, and and going to be heard. And I can't be happier.

I got a message from Shifty, my lawyer, last week.  After all of the delays, lies, twists, and turns, Shifty reported that a check in the amount of nearly $192K has arrived to the Clerk of the Superior Court to apparently end our little saga. Now, Shifty hasn't yet got the money in his grubby little hands and I don't either, but, it has been pried away from Dipshit and his mother. Specifically, Mom had to refinance her house in order to access these funds. It's a real shame that she hasn't made Jr. responsible for this fiasco, but that seems to be the M.O. with these folks. Jr. should of had his little ass whipped a few more times 40 years ago to teach him he doesn't get his way all of the time. I guess that opportunity has long since passed. At this point, it's not my problem.  Some people will plain never learn. And these are two of them.  Nearly $300k has been squandered by these two idiots all over a simple Homeowners association dispute that could have easily been peacefully resolved nearly 7 years ago.  Sadly, it took nearly $225K in legal fees and costs to adjudicate this issue  in the court system.  There is something wrong (as I have pointed out many times previously) with our justice system.   That can be a topic for another day's rant.  Today, it's about listening to the opening notes.  It is a bit screechy and a bit overbearing.  But, it truly is, music to my ears.    

COMING UP:  A post-mortem from the 2014 Dicky the Peap St Patty's Day Blow out.  Police, Elderly advocate, and most importantly, State Weight and Measurements reports are still being compiled.  We'll have the full run-down here.  

I think this is a good way to return

In reply to the single reader who  obviously has way too much time on his hands, I return with the first post of the new year with even better news.First, however, a bit of related housekeeping:  The lone returning reader will note a new feature on our right column: this is again the ill-fated attempt to track the monies owed me by the aforementioned idiot developer.  I have been disappointed so many times in the past.
This time, though, I think I have finally got it right.

Earlier this year, the State Court of Appeals not only affirmed the Superior court decision we won nearly 2 years prior, but they didn't even bother to publish their opinion of the case.  In the legal world, that means the case was so routine and non-descript, it would not be used as a reference for any future cases..  This was a simple case of contract Law 101 that was bungled from the beginning, we caught it, protested it, sued over it, and won. At some point, we all recognize that you don't win every time and I think Dipshit finally got the message.   If the Boy wonder doesn't come up with the near 200 large by March 21st, Mom's house is going to be auctioned off on the courthouse steps.  And THAT is not going to be a pretty site.  Even in Dickey the Peap parlance, that is a lot of dough.   In direct conflict with everything else that has gone on with this case,  this time, my lawyer Shifty filed a writ of execution with  the court and they jumped on it.  Immediately.  And to top it off, the Sheriff executed it and served on our boy likety-split. No turning back the clock now.

Of course, the monies owed indicated on the side is to be shared among myself and my fellow plaintiffs. This in no way makes up for the sleepless nights, the tension, uncertainty, and ill ease which we have all suffered through for nearly 7 years.  On the other hand, I know of 3 sets of neighbors that I can count on  in any type of situation and have developed a point of trust with them that there is no misreading of their value.  It is immeasurable.  My trust is implicit.  And that, has been worth every penny in developing.  There are good people in the world as well.  I have always known this was going to turn out OK.  I just didn't know that I would ever see my money again.  I don't have it ,yet, and by no means have spent it yet, but, don't see many ways to stop the train now.  I sure hope it isn't derailed once again.  

The tradition continues

'Twas the night before Christmas, and all ‘round the ‘tute
The dimwits were sleeping, the sight is not cute.
The restraints were hung by the chimney with care,
It’s for their own safety and general welfare;

The misfits were locked in their dormitory with beds,
They’re really no more than slow-thinking pinheads;
And Mrs Kfred in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
He’d be the one to visit our mentally sick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called the dimwits by name;
"Now, Freako! now, Gummo! and Dickie the Peap!
Wake up you slow whacko’s; you need no more sleep!

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
He knew of these idiots I suffer each day,
He couldn’t believe I had chosen to stay.

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
Some brand new straightjackets he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Replacing old tethers with an all knowing smirk,
He knew the great burden I constantly bear,
Sometimes I think, "I’m in a giant daycare,"

"Now Kfred," he boomed, “Don’t Worry, Don’t fuss,
All people have seen them aboard the short bus,
Most readers know they are all mental midgets,
Their collective IQ is but one single digit”,

And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight,
“I’m glad I’m not you:  None of those idiots seem right!”

(with profuse apologies to Clement Clarke Moore)

"And with no time left on the clock, our final score will be: Good Guys 1, Idiot Developer 0"

Oh, it's done alright.  Finished.  Finito.  Game Over. You lose.  What a great Christmas present.

I and my  fellow plaintiffs received word yesterday that the State Court of Appeals had released their decision:  The decision of judgment in our favor in Superior Court against the idiot developer of the ongoing lawsuit has been affirmed!  We win!  After a small victory earlier, I had developed an attitude that, though I was always confident we would prevail, the justice system is certainly slow in how it goes about affirming so.  

Now, Mr. Bright Guy has always told anyone that would listen to him that he was right and that he would prevail on all counts.  The COA obviously didn't agree and ripped apart his case by including a description of his arguments as "nonsensical" and referring to the CCR's as "certainly... not a model of clarity".  I guess this would best be described as "overplaying one's hand".  

Now, I and my fellow plaintiffs are revved up.  The bastard still owes us over $75K.  And, of course, it will be a fight to get it which will only benefit Shifty, our lawyer.  At this point, however, I don't really care.  The money has been long gone and forgotten.  I am still surviving and I know I won't get all of our money back, but, we certainly are going to get some of it.  And it feels good. Really good.  

   

Have you ever felt like you have been somewhere before?

Interestingly, my previous post detailing the wayward travels of the little miser in search of cheap liquor drew nary a protest or whimper. Technology has indicated  that due to the viewing/stalking habits of Whisky Magellan, he has not visited here, yet.  As a result, I make this one prediction with 100% certainty: he will protest, vehemently, my description of his route and purpose and, of course, attempt to cast me in some type of unfavorable light. The guarantee can be assured by the time/date stamp attached to his comment.  Wait for it, it's coming.  That, our dear 2 loyal readers, can be taken  to the bank.

Yesterday, I worked with my supervisor in Dilbertland and had a great day. My direct supervisor is not only my boss, he is my friend, mentor, pal, and all-around-good guy. It's rare to work for a boss that you really like as a person. Oh sure, we have all had bosses that we "get along" with, but, this guy is different. He is supportive, helpful, and yet, no pushover. When I screw-up, he points out my error, suggests how I can do something differently, and makes it a teachable moment. When I want to bitch and whine, he listens, consoles, give me the company line first, then usually agrees with me that, "yeah, I don't agree with it either, but, this is how you can do it and still make everyone happy". I like that. No job is perfect, but you have got to like what you do; I like what I do. And it is a lot easier when you work for someone with whom you implicitly trust.  He did commit one act yesterday that I found a bit odd, however.  We took a client to lunch and had a great meeting.  Business is good, the client is happy, the possibility for more business is wide open, and the future is very bright.  All good things.  At the end of lunch, the bill was set on the table by the waitress and she breezed off.  Normal company policy is that the "senior" level person buys lunch, but the conversation continued and he wasn't reaching for the tab. Realizing that we had to leave for our next afternoon appointment, I pulled out my card, had it processed by the waitress, bid the client to have a Happy Holiday, and were out of there. As we got in the car, he said, "Did you notice how I had a case of short- arms there?   My expenses are over this month and I still have 2 weeks to finish".  I told him that was fine, I understood and had no qualms about paying as he approves my expenses anyway, plus, I get airline miles along the way.   "Hey, before we make the next stop", he asks, "is there a state liquor store around here?  I like this particular tequila and I can save .90  a bottle here versus the state I live in.  I have checked all of the states I have visited this month and, so far, it's cheapest here. "

I already have an order in for an updated satellite image.

You have got to give me Something

Through the marvels of technology, my recent hiatus from the nonsense, stupidity, and outright lunacy mentioned and displayed here on a semi-regular basis was exposed yesterday, when I received a text (YES, TEXT!) message from Giacommo, my former assistant and Trustee here at FTI exhorting me to at least contribute something/anything as he was losing his bearings in life and needed some guidance.  Yes, it is a heavy burden I shoulder, but I am wiling to do so in order to further the young lad's career.  Due to time constraints today, I am only able to share a limited sampling:

• The accompanying photo is an actual satellite image  of the path of one, D. the Peap, as he continues his quest in order to find the cheapest liquor in the Western United States.  Irish Whiskey for $42 a bottle in Minnesota?  I'll take 2.  Hold it, what?  I can get the same thing for $39.99 in Nevada.  How many hours does it take to get there?  A demo special in North Dakota?  Mrs. P, saddle up.  We're headed for Fargo.  

  

  path of attempted and complete liquor purchases by D., the Peap

  EDITOR"S NOTE:  in the interests of complete disclosure, I did request the short-armed one to pick me up a bottle of Gran Marnier should he find one at a competitive price, but alas, I know I am going to pay through the ass for it once he arrives back home.  

I will have an updated subject list in the coming days, but there it is.  Even when the chronicling is missing, the result is the same.    

You are here. And here. And over here, too.

I was able to squeeze in another grudge match golf game with the little miser yesterday.  We haven't played much this summer due to our conflicting schedules, but, we both committed to the date, the weather cooperated, and we had a great time.  We are approaching probably the last of our scheduled matches as the weather is beginning to turn, and we won't have many more opportunities.    For the record, I beat the short-armed one by 2 strokes and, of course, regained the ceremonial quarter in the exact same condition I had given it up 6 weeks earlier when he beat me by 9 (yes, NINE) strokes. You see,  I had secretly marked the quarter with the term "CHEAPSKATE" etched around the outside edge before handing it over previously as I long suspected that the Frugal One would never part with any quarter, regardless of the circumstances under which it was attained.    Sure enough, my suspicions were confirmed.  The "cheapskate" quarter is back in my possession.       

As compensation for his poor performance on the golf course, however, it was the decision of Dickie Skiltskin to instead focus on my failure to properly read the map of the golf course.  I misdirected our play to  the wrong hole at one point and we ended up getting "lost" on the course.  Finally figuring out where we went wrong, we had to walk an extra 400 yards to the proper point to regain the proper progression of play.  Lost in all of the whining and complaining  was the fact that, at this point, our boy was down 7 strokes to me and fading fast.  I actually offered him that I would penalize myself 5 strokes for the screw-up for compensation and as an incentive to cheer him up for being so far behind.  Hard-headed and vigorously denying that he needed no charity, the little Arnold wannabe played on.  It was the last hole where my wheels fell off (water hazard, lost ball, etc.) and I  lost the hole by 5 strokes.  Had Mr. Golf taken me up on my generous offer, he actually would have won the match by 3 strokes.  But nooooooo, he soldiered on, won the hole, lost the match, and then has the audacity to say, "Well, I know you won, but it wasn't very pretty".  Really!?  Who has the quarter?

Enjoying the 19th hole where we both scored some well deserved beer, we were able to recap our game and the events of the afternoon.     Feeling the effects of the beer, our boy asked me "which way to the restroom?"    Coming back a bit later, I note his frustrated face.  "You dumb shit! That was the ladies room!  The men's is over on the other side",  he said.

I guess I should have studied the layout  of the clubhouse in the first place.  Had I done so, I would have purposely sent him to the clubhouse showroom.   Perhaps he could have found a set of clubs that would help lower his score.   

A guy's resource to meet his future wife

Certainly not afraid to swing at both sides of  an issue or to worry about someone's "self-esteem" (remember when that was such a buzz-word in the 80's?),  I do find this little story at the expense of the Catholics a bit humorous.   Next up:  a swipe at the idiot politicians for putting us in this current mess.

'Bless me Father, for I have sinned.
I have been with a loose girl'.

The priest asks, 'Is that you, little Joey Pagano ?'

'Yes, Father, it is.'

'And who was the girl you were with?'

'I can't tell you, Father. I don't want to ruin her reputation'.

"Well, Joey, I'm sure to find out her name sooner or later
so you may as well tell me now. Was it Tina Minetti?'

'I cannot say.'

'Was it Teresa Mazzarelli?'

'I'll never tell.'

'Was it Nina Capelli?'

'I'm sorry, but I cannot name her.'

'Was it Cathy Piriano?'

'My lips are sealed.'

'Was it Rosa DiAngelo, then?'

'Please, Father, I cannot tell you.'

The priest sighs in frustration.
'You're very tight lipped, and I admire that.
But you've sinned and have to atone.
You cannot be an altar boy now for 4 months.
Now you go and behave yourself.'

Joey walks back to his pew,
and his friend Franco slides over and whispers,
'What'd you get?'

'Four months vacation and five good leads."

Trust Me. I am a Medical professional.

Having been recently diagnosed to be fully recovered and ready to go  by medical professionals, I am now in the position to resume my semi-frequently activities here at the Institute.  I have been assured that resumption of my duties here will not affect my over all health and I should be no worse for the wear.    I did find the parting conversation with the medical professional a bit odd in the sense that it flew in the face of conventional medical wisdom that I have read before and provide a written transcript of the conversation  here for our 2 faithful readers evaluation.

For the record, the doctor is an older, experienced medical professional whom arrived in this country over 45 years ago from China.  Though being here for so long, his English speaking skills are a bit weaker than most and during our conversation, I now know why.  Anyway, I was fortunate to have recorded it and relay it here, word for word.

Q: Doctor, I've heard that cardiovascular exercise can prolong life. Is this true?
A: Heart only good for so many beats, and that it... Don't waste on exercise. Everything wear out eventually.
Speeding up heart not make you live longer; it like saying you extend life of car by driving faster. Want to live longer? Take nap.

Q: Should I reduce my alcohol intake?
A: Oh no. Wine made from fruit. Brandy distilled wine, that mean they take water out of fruity bit so you get even more of goodness that way. Beer also made of grain. Bottom up!

Q: How can I calculate my body/fat ratio?
A: Well, if you have body and you have fat, your ratio one to one. If you have two body, your ratio two to one.

Q: What are some of the advantages of participating in a regular exercise program?
A: Can't think of single one, sorry. My philosophy: No pain...good!

Q: Aren't fried foods bad for you?
A: YOU NOT LISTENING! Food fried in vegetable oil. How getting more vegetable be bad?

Q : Will sit-ups help prevent me from getting a little soft around the middle?
A: Oh no! When you exercise muscle, it get bigger. You should only be doing sit-up if you want bigger stomach.

Q: Is chocolate bad for me?
A: You crazy?!? HEL-LO-O!! Cocoa bean! Another vegetable! It best feel-good food around!

Q: Is swimming good for your figure?
A: If swimming good for figure, explain whale to me.

Q: Is getting in shape important for my lifestyle?
A: Hey! 'Round' is shape!

There it is.  I can't explain it.  I have read and re-read it and it all seems to make sense.  I can only surmise that speaking English is what apparently kills you.   

.......And forgive those whom Trespass against us

Slowly easing back into my duties and responsibilities here at the Institute, I offer this contribution from Marv, the Neighbor, as an example of some of the heavy reading which I have undertaken this summer during hiatus:

Toward the end of the Sunday service, the Minister asked, "How many of you have forgiven your enemies?" 80% held up their hands. The Minister then repeated his question. All responded this time, except one man, Walter Barnes, who attended church only when the weather was bad.  "Mr. Barnes, it's obviously not a good morning for golf. It's good to see you here today. Are you not willing to forgive your enemies?"

"I don't have any," he replied gruffly.  "Mr. Barnes, that is very unusual. How old are you?"

"Ninety-eight," he replied. The congregation stood up and clapped their hands.

"Oh, Mr. Barnes, would you please come down in front and tell us all how a person can live ninety-eight years and not have an enemy in the world?"

The old golfer tottered down the aisle, stopped in front of the pulpit, turned around, faced the congregation, and said simply, "I outlived all them assholes" - and he calmly returned to his seat.

This shouldn't be that tough

Vaunted by the extensive blog  security measures  employed here at the Institute, I couldn't remember the friggin' password to access my own Blog!  As a result my summer hiatus continues.   

Directing our know-little, do-nothing FTI IT staff (the most reviled  dept. here at FTI) develop some sort of method to aide me in accessing my own website, the best they could come up with was to either, a) change the password to "password"; b) drop our  security package entirely allowing continuing guest commentary and contribution from whomever sits down at the public kiosk from which this all emanates; or c) simply re-post already published articles eliminating the need for security as the information will already be known. Finding all 3 proposals as unacceptable, I immediately and forthrightly dismissed the entire staff and am now scouring the Linked-in website for qualified replacements.   Qualifications are simple:  know a little about computers, understand that what I say go's, and be willing to be a part of a constantly hated, minimally respected, team of deadbeats, slackers, and losers.  

In other words: trying to match the team to the target audience.   

And on the 4th of July no less

I was all set to write today about my vacation when Kfred Jr 2 sent a message and some pictures home from Afghanistan.  I thought I would share the story (most of you already know it) with our 2 faithful readers however, as you are not direct family.

Jr. 2 told us that he was going to be up for an End of Tour duty  award while serving in Afghanistan to be presented by Senator John McCain..  He still has 3 more weeks to go before he rotates out and we figured that, though noteworthy, the ceremony would be "routine."  Again, not to downplay the significance or accomplishment, rather, another part of the military life with a bonus of the fact that he would meet McCain.    After sending the pictures, though, we noted that the award was actually the Bronze Star! He received it for exemplary conduct "while serving with friendly foreign forces engaged in an armed conflict against an opposing armed force in which the United States is not a belligerent party."  Wow.  That's big.  

There is nothing else to say.  Do you think his Dad is proud?  Yeah, he is.    

How I SPENT my Summer Vacation

Poring over the bills from my summer excursion, I now understand the frugality of the little miser.

Mrs. Kfred  and I spent a long planned week in California driving from San Diego up to San Francisco with another couple.  And we had a fabulous time.  I had planned and reserved some hotels in advance via Priceline and Hotels.com, so, I knew my costs going in and actually cut some pretty good bargains.  As I had prepaid them before I left, that expense was already addressed.  As we get on the road though, well, it's time to eat lunch  and get a couple of microbrews for 4. "Thanks folks. Enjoy the rest of your vacation, I will be your cashier."  Sounds innocuous enough.  That will be $85 please.  Hey, here we are at the 18th of Pebble Beach.  Let's eat there.  Yeah, that sounds good. Yike's! they're kind of proud of their setting here.  Oh I know, but c'mon it's Pebble Beach; when are you going to be back here anytime soon? Yeah, you're right. Lets sit outside in the sun. "Table for 4? No problem. You can sit right here.  Let me tell you about the lunch specials". $181 for lunch was a bit of a shocker, but, you know, it will be a long time before I probably go back and I WAS at Pebble Beach.

We go to Mission Ranch in Carmel to have dinner At Clint Eastwood's place.  It's an old working cattle farm on the Bay that he rescued from bankruptcy years ago which was slated to be bought by a bunch of condo developers.  They have a restaurant and piano bar that was a lot of fun and is supposedly frequented by Eastwood frequently on weeknights.  Of course, he didn't show when we ate there, but it was a fun experience.  Apparently, he is getting a little grumpier in his old age and doesn't deviate far from some of his recent movie characters when it comes to pleasantries.  Regardless, dinner for 4 was nothing that couldn't be defeated by the better part of 4 Franklins. 

I know we spent more on food than we did on hotels.  But, hey, I'm on vacation.     I wonder if Pricleine will consider starting a name-your-own-price for dinner option.  

    

OH, I am back alright

The 2013 summer excursion is over.  I'm back.  And I've got some new ideas to discuss.    And you will see it soon:

 My 2.3 million dollar yacht shopping experience..  The Hearst Foundation's refusal to bargain seriously about the castle.  The failed balloon ride.   Lunch at Pebble Beach.  And the San Francisco treat. Staffers are feverishly working on matching photos with stories.  They are on their way.  I promise.  

Wait until you see her when she doesn't have her tea and crumpets

Good job, Honey.

JUKEBOX: A Breezy, Eezy, Friday Tune

I guess I should have used the hoe

I ran across this news story and picture about a guy who was using one of those 5 gallon propane tanks and an accompanying 3 foot long wand for weed control around his house.  You can burn weeds right down to the ground and the intense heat many times will kill the root as well.  Some people prefer it to poison as it is safer for pets and kids.  I have considered getting one for use around the compound here but, just have never got around to picking one up.  You can get them at the farm or tractor supply store for about $25 (without the propane tank).  Anyways,  this guy decided to  head out doors and attack those pesky weeds.  He apparently had wet down the tree next to his house before firing up the torch, but,  the tree ignited anyway.  (Pine tree pitch is very flammable and apparently fed the fire.)   The story did not print the guy's name and, rather, referred to him as "the homeowner".  Firefighters had  no estimate of the amount of damage, but, did note significant damage to the roof, and water and smoke damage was found in the living areas of the house.

The good news is the local neighborhood homeowners association did enclose  the "Best Yard" award along with the 30 day notice to clean up the property.  

Why, we DO have something in common!

I think the folks at AARP hope the third time is the charm. These guys are like a bad case of jock itch: they just never stop. Well, I got news for them: I use rash powder regularly.

After my second contact to ol' A. Barry of the AARP following the original ridicule  response,  I get a third  solicitation in the mail over the weekend from Steve Cone, Director of Membership,  that now  seems kind of desperate. In fact, it's kind of sad.  Apparently the cool, free, insulated travel  bag they so heavily promoted the first time around, is now basically treated as a consolation  prize if you send in the $16 they want. This time,  the insulated travel bag is now included as an acknowledgment of me sending in some money.  I can only figure this enticement was not that great because it doesn't have the screaming announcement on the envelope about it.  The benefits Steve  recites of joining the AARP  include the "award-winning AARP The Magazine  that will help you feel great, save money and have fun".  Hmmm.  Who knew a magazine could do all of that?   The only magazine  I can  think of  that did 2 of those 3 things was  one the neighbor kid showed me when I was about 11 years old that he had stolen from under his Dad's bed.  If it's got that, I'm in.  Otherwise, I think I will pass.

Just before I prepared to toss this letter, I noticed that the $16 was for a one year membership, but, if I opted for the 5 year membership, I could take advantage of the AARP "Anniversary Discount" price of $55. Yep, that's right. Me and the ol' AARP are both turning 55 this year!  Who knew that so much good has been done for such an amount of time?  

Steve, I do have one question though.  We both have acquired knowledge, experience, and wisdom over the years.  Even at 17, I knew some things were wrong, but, obviously you guys didn't do anything about it because Mom made me wear one for graduation pictures.  Why the hell didn't you fight the prevalence of leisure suits?     

 

Jukebox: I guess this is what the AARP thinks I listen to

Coming Monday: the latest message from the AARP

An update to an old classic

Now demonstrating his propensity for utter and complete "fiscal restraint": [fiscal restraint (n): fis-cul re-straynt; the act of avoiding, denying, or objecting to payment of any kind whether in a social, business, or adversarial setting] in a location other than his own neighborhood, I note that the little miser is now practicing his finely honed art while on vacation.

I received a call the other day that he had the misfortune of actually having to buy lunch for his out of town hosts.  Failing to correctly identify the time-honored direct men's room route in advance of the check coming,  our boy instead excused himself upon viewing the waitress coming with the small paper based kryptonite.  Instead, he miscalculated and crossed the immediate  path of the server whom assumed he was late for another engagement and was searching for her in order to pay in an orderly fashion. She promptly handed him the check,thanked him for his patronage, told him to "have a nice day", and turned heel to attend to her other tables.    Our boy is now left with a  medical condition manifesting itself with a sudden breakout of body perspiration, elevated blood pressure, and an actual desire now to truly use the men's room for it's intended purpose.  

The vacation is only a week over with 2 more on on tap.  A new updated wall map consisting of, instead the image posted above, will be replaced with something along the order of this:  $$!  You can track progress by simply noting the sites of frustrated hosts as the little skinflint journeys  his way home.