Jukebox: I even lost my last quarter

I'll give you a piece of the good Neighbor

I recently signed up for an account under my alter ego with Linkedin, the social media site for working professionals. Its kind of a Facebook for working people. No, you don't use it to let your friends know you are having "4th meal" at Taco Bell at 1 in the morning. (On an unrelated topic, isn't it amazing that marketers have figured out a way to describe the appearance of food during a massive drunk as "4th meal" with attractive smiling people sitting around at a party as opposed to half passed-out, cigarettes hanging out of their mouths, obnoxious drunks with too loud of music in the background, slobbering over a bunch of cold tacos? Alas, I digress.) It's more of a place where you can network with other people in your trade or outside of your trade as well. You put up a personal profile of your work experience which is available for others to see. It also is a place where job recruiters search for candidates for various jobs.

Anyways, my organizational and management skills have recently drawn the attention of the good folks of both State Farm and Bankers Life and Casualty Insurance Companies as candidates for their management programs. Now, they really don't go into detail about which skills they covet so much as an employer. State Farm was impressed because of my "initiative and relationship-building skills" that I demonstrated in my past experiences. Bankers, on the other hand, felt I "had the right mix of skills for a career as an Independent Insurance Sales Agent". I took both of these complements along with the countless thanks-but-no-thanks rejection letters over the years from employers whom always laud my "background and impressive experience, but we have decided to pursue other candidates" when searching for work and put them neatly in the garbage file. They all are meaningless. Hey guys, here's a hint: You can at least expend the energy to halfway personalize your message to me so I don't think it's a robot trolling through profiles for candidates for your half baked job. I don't need another half-baked job. My Executive Director position here more than meets my career goals.

Tempis Fugit

With the impending arrival of fall, I spent yesterday performing the "get-ready-for-change-of-season" duties: Clean gutters? Done. Put away the lawn furniture? Uh-huh. Trim the overgrowth on some of the plants and bushes? Yep. Hydrate with some beer in the meantime? Well, of course. Remove some stubborn moss from the rooftop? Finally, but it's done. Edge around the perimeter of the lawn after avoiding it all summer long? Oh yeah. Repeat beer ritual? It goes without saying. Turn and re-stack the growing pile of brush and debris that will be ignited once the open burning ban is lifted? Oh, boy , I can't wait for that one (and it's gonna be a whopper)!

Funny. I don't know where summer went. I just unpacked my summer sandals last week.

Jukebox: Keep on truckin'

Fiction? Truth? These are both real.

CARSON CITY, NEVADA-A quiet recluse who died with $200 in his bank account surprised Carson City, Nev. officials when they were inspecting his run-of-the mill home to put it up for sale.

Inside Walter Samaszko Jr.'s 1,200-square-foot house, officials found stashes of gold coins and bullion. $7 million worth of it.

"You never anticipate running into anything like this," Carson City Clerk-Recorder Alan Glover said. "This guy was everybody's next-door neighbor."

Glover told the Tahoe Daily Tribune that several boxes of coins were found all neatly wrapped in aluminum foil in Samaszko's garage.

He had so much gold it took two trips on wheelbarrows to haul it out, the Daily Tribune reported. Officials also searched crawl spaces and used a metal detector in his yard to ensure they found all the gold, according to the Daily Tribune.

"He was a hoarder — there was everything inside that home you could think of," Glover told the L.A. Times. "The workers found a crawl space from the garage. That led to everything else."

Oddly, in an eerily similar incident, Dickey the Peap was observed emerging from a small, well camouflaged, hollowed-out stump in his own backyard yesterday. Immediately realizing, he had been observed, the short armed one yelled, "Get the hell out of here! I am just checking for termites."

Jukebox: Hey, it's still summer!

How a +6 was parlayed into .25

I experienced another semi-infrequent lunch and round of golf with Dickey the Peap yesterday. At this rate, I am not sure that the FTI legal defense fund won't be replenished in approximately 10, 000 years or so. And I am not sure that the little miser still won't be around at that time insisting that the cost of death is simply more than he is willing to pay and that he will find a cheaper option. In the meantime, the George Jetson's of the future will be curiously studying the visitor from another time with the short arms.

In fairness, for the record, there was no static regarding whom had the responsibility to host yesterday's lunch. We alternate each time and yesterday was his turn to pay. I did find it curious, however, that upon seeing us, our host waiter, turned over to the bar and bellowed, " I need 16 ounces of beer in a 12 oz. glass!". Obviously, he has dealt with this character before. Good service by waitstaff at a restaurant includes knowledge by the staff of what the customer prefers and to try to accommodate the wishes of the guest. The successful business model of some restaurants do include promotional vehicles such as , "all-you-can-eat", "half-priced happy hour", "Taco Tuesday" and the like. I am unaware of any financially solvent operation employing the practice of negotiating menu prices with the customer before the order is taken. I know of only one individual that could systematically, individually, take down an operation by himself: Mr 16.oz of beer in a 12 oz glass.

Anyways, we had a good round of 9 holes of golf on a warm, later summer afternoon. At the end of hole 3, I was up by a score of 3 strokes and mentioned that I predicted I would probably win by 6 strokes at the end of our round. (For the infrequent reader: I am not a good golfer; I play approximately 5 times a year. My game is such that 90% of the time I flail about and move the ball 25 yards in the wrong direction. The other 10%, though, encourages me to keep playing and think I might have a chance to be actually good. It doesn't matter though; I do it just to have some fun.) The little miser immediately picked up on this and said, "I'll remember that, I'll remember that!". I wasn't trying to insult him, rather, just get inside of his head because he is actually as lousy as I am and each round is basically a coin toss as to whom will emerge the victor. We played even golf up to the last hole, where the wheels finally fell off for the Frugal One and he lost the hole by 3 strokes. Adding these 3 strokes to my prior 3 stroke advantage equaled the previously predicted 6 stroke advantage. Quietly and immediately, he handed me a well worn, aged, shiny from the repeated rubbing by oily fingers, uneven around the edges due to repeated handling while counted, payment for the loss of our standing bet when we play golf, quarter. "Ya know what really pisses me off?" he said. "Now I have to buy beer, too." "Look on the bright side." I told him. "They only sell 16 oz bottles in the bar."

Never Forgotten. Ever.

The usual mirth, merriment, and silliness associated with our normal observations will be suspended today in honor of the over 3000 lives lost 11 years ago today.

Regardless of your political leanings, interpretation of cause, or assignment of blame, the cowardly acts of that day were despicable. May their be a special place in Hell for those involved with the planning and carrying out of those acts.

Jukebox: They say it's my birthday

Gee, what's a few days among friends?

True to form, I have once again had to  reset the money countdown clock an additional 21 days due to the legal system.  The judge ruled today that due to the crushing caseload assigned to him, his earlier opening to hear our round for increasing our long over due bond has been supplanted by a pending  12 day criminal trial and, as a result, has now been pushed back to the 12th of October as the earliest date for adjudication. This is simply unbelievable.

Here is some free advice (and it is really good, trust me): If you ever, EVER, contemplate a lawsuit, turn and sprint away like your bank account depended on it. Because it does.

Where are those damn earbuds?

I wish I could think of this kind of stuff on my own:

Authorities say a New Hampshire woman has been arrested four times in 26 hours for blasting the AC/DC song "Highway to Hell" and other loud music from her home and for throwing a frying pan.

Police first issued a warning to Joyce Coffey on Tuesday afternoon at her home in Epping. They say they were called back an hour later and arrested her for the loud music. She was released on $500 personal recognizance bail, but police returned to her home about five hours later -- again because of a report about loud music and arrested her again.

Police say Coffey was arrested again five hours later. This time, she was released on a $1000 bond, but four hours later was arrested again, this time over  more loud music and a domestic violence charge by her nephew who alleged he was hit by a frying pan thrown by the woman while trying to  remove some of his belongings from her house

Coffey was jailed Friday and couldn't be reached for comment.

Reportedly,  a judge has recommended she use headphones.

Well sure, wouldn't you know?

The eagle eyed reader will note that the "Example of Greed" countdown clock has been reset by adding another 15 days. Apparently, the local justice system, in it's infinite wisdom, will not consider the request to grant us more money for the bond we hold while the idiot deadbeat's appeal moves forward. Instead, this Thursday will only be consideration of a procedural motion and then the money date is set for the 21st. Of course, I am disappointed; of course, I am disillusioned. But, I am not,defeated. We will have a hearing and dipshit will have to offer up more money. There simply is no alternative.

Wow, What a deal.

Well he's back! This guy just doesn't give up. And he now has a new bribe offer to top it off. You have got to admire his tenacity. Ladies and Gentlemen, ol' A. Berry Rand from AARP does not take "NO" for an answer. And this time he means business.

As determined ever to gain some type of beachhead here at FTI as a remote outpost for his efforts, ol' A. Berry sent a letter to Mrs. Kfred dangling a cool insulated travel bag for a mere $16 a year membership fee to join AARP. In exchange, she would receive an insulated travel bag that "helps you stay organized on the go. It will keep drinks cold, snacks fresh and has enough room for everything you need." Hmmm. Let's examine that one for a moment, shall we?

This bag must be particularly special because people are actually complaining that what they received is not what was offered. Seriously!? I found an online complaint whining over the fact that the bag is basically a small camera bag and not large enough to hold anything of value. Another commenter was actually conversing with AARP to get the correct bag in exchange for the one pictured here: " I like their magazine, but I'm not happy with the way they communicate things to their CUSTOMERS - and I still want the other bag. I've offered to send this bag back to them."

Now, I have never met ol' A Berry in person, but, I have got to figure he wants you to send something in alright. And it isn't the wrong insulated travel bag. He wants your money, moohlah, scratch, dough, cake. And he, AGAIN, is not getting any from us. As for the travel organizer, I don't need it. Mrs. Kfred is in charge of that. Snacks, keys, passports, water, pen. She knows where all of that stuff is. On occasion, after one of our "misunderstandings" she even tells me where to stuff the map. I think ol' A. Berry offers medical insurance that deals with that as well.

Jukebox: Here's an appropriate bonus

Jukebox: Great Advice

With a name like this...........

I was able to schedule some time in the FTI commissary over the weekend to attempt to produce some jam as a result of the fine gift I received a few days ago. All in all , it was a fairly easy process and I look forward to sampling the results. It was a fairly simply operation with only a minor hiccup.

Key to making jam is having some type of thickening agent to add to the fruit. I scoured the voluminous FTI resource library and found the "Cooking and food Preparation; Frozen/Preserved; Jams, jellies, compotes" section to determine the best method to follow in producing my project. The recipe included the need for commercially produced pectin. Not wanting to run to the store as I know we didn't have any on hand, I noted that the book mentioned that apples are a high source of natural pectin. You peel two tart apples, finely grate them, boil them with a little bit of water and gradually the pectin will be produced into a liquid form that can be used for my purpose. I thought "perfect", here is my answer. I dutifully followed the directions and began to boil my apple. For minutes. And minutes. And more minutes. At some point, I realized this maybe wasn't working the way I thought it should. The rolling, boiling stuff I had on the stove had changed from a clear brothy liquid to a brown foamy mass that didn't seem to be doing much. Thinking that, perhaps I should test this concoction, I took a small spoonful of it and dropped it into a cup of water. It immediately turned into a strand of caramel. This ladies and gentlemen, is the "hard-ball" stage when making candy. Though it is desirable when making homemade toffee for Christmas gifts, it is not beneficial when preparing a thickening agent for homemade jam as I had long since surpassed the point of viability in this process. I thought it might be a bit odd, but I will try it this way anyway. I dumped the mess into a strainer to remove the bits of apple and that is where a slight glitch occurred. Upon immediately hitting the dry cool area outside of it's boiling environment, it immediately turned to hardened caramel. The edge of the strainer, the sides, the sink, everywhere. What a mess. To top it off, the stuff is as hard as cement and would certainly chip a tooth if you tried to eat it. I did taste some and, though it definitely tasted like caramel, it was so hard and solid that there is no way you could chew it. Fortunately, Mrs. Kfred was yakkin' away on the phone to someone which provided me the nearly 15 minute cover to clean the mess up without her even knowing of my issues. I realized I had suffered a crop failure, threw the first batch out, and decided to go to the store the next day, get the pectin, and follow the recipe to the letter. I did so and now have regular jam. Whew. What a relief.

I'm not sure all of my efforts were worth it. I probably should just fork out the $4 for the jar and buy some Smuckers off of the shelf. I wonder if they have ever considered a toffee jam. I have a great recipe.

Jukebox: Not me. Troubles.

OH!, It get's better

Our two faithful readers will note an update and change to the Example of Greed countdown clock located at the side of this page. How does that saying go: It's darkest right before dawn? I think we are approaching that point. The ongoing Dopes trial has been one of great frustration and disappointment. As admonished here many times previously, if you ever, EVER, consider entering into a lawsuit for any reason, either as a plaintiff or defendant, immediately phone your local mental health crisis line and schedule a visit for a complete check-up. There is obviously something wrong with your thinking. Do everything possible to avoid any such action. 

In a nutshell, due to the dragging of feet by the judicial system, our victory in Superior court, and now on appeal, has languished in the halls of Appeal court scheduling and was referred back to Superior Court for a particular motion to be addressed. Like most venues around the country, the courts are clogged with criminal matters which take precedence over civil matters. Amazingly, Shifty's assistant was able to cut through the fog and actually camped outside the office door of the original Superior Court judge's office and was able to speak with him for a few minutes yesterday, explain the situation, and talked him into adjusting his calendar to an earlier date to address our case. As a result, our September 21 hearing to determine the amount of mo' money to be placed in the court registry has been moved up to September 6. Additionally, he will also sign an order that day compelling the other side to pay for the full transcription of the record to support their assertions in their appeal. Cost: Around 10K. Additional monies needed to be going into the court registry: Around 50K. Total: Nearly 60K. Ouch!

To top it off, Shifty, our lawyer, announced he would like to host a barbeque in late September with us, his staff, co-counsel, etc. As he states: "A family affair would be nice. My treat." Of course, the fact that we have already paid him approaching 200K for this whole affair shouldn't preclude him from offering unlimited Ballpark Franks for our enjoyment. After all, everyone knows, they plump, when you cook 'em. All kidding aside, it is a nice offer.

We are all anxious to get this affair over, collect our judgments, and move on with our lives. We all have other matters to attend to and Shifty has other cases to work on. I can't speak for the idiot judgment debtor developer. I am not sure he will ever learn a lesson from this whole matter. It doesn't matter. He's not coming to the barbeque, anyway.

Wait until your Father gets home

I note that the Rich Dad, Poor Dad series is coming to my area in the near future.  It is a wealth accumulation seminar series based on the best selling book of a few years ago that costs absolutely nothing to attend, but, of course, they will  strong arm you into buying their additional books, CD's and other materials once you get there.   Their radio ads include come-on statements including this one which I really had to listen to twice:   "Why you will never get rich saving money".    I thought this is kind of silly, but, oh well. To each their own;  there is always someone out their hustling other people to make a buck.  I, on the other hand, sleep soundly knowing I have access to our own financial guru here at FTI.  

We here at FTI draw on the knowledge, wisdom, and experience of our own Dickie the Peap who used to run his own series, Cheap Peap, Cheap Peap until repeated complaints forced the entire operation to shut down. Apparently, the complaints did not come from the few attendees bussed in off of skid row to give the appearance of popularity on the promise of free food (only to each get a package of saltines accumulated from repeated orders of Wendy's chili), but rather, from past attendees. The strategy of advocating little to no tipping, "grinding" down the amounts of presented invoices regardless of the amount, and failure to disclose the potential medical liabilities of the repeated classic "short-arm reach for the tab" move added up to be just to much. The gig was up.

Ill bet Dad wasn't too happy about that.

Best Wishes are in Order

Recent page maintenance and analysis of this blog's readership has uncovered the fact that our loyal readership has now doubled, and yes, we are back to two faithful readers! This is a milestone event! Congrats to all of us! Let's have some cake and ice cream!

Though we have an ample supply of ice cream in the FTI commissary, due to staff layoffs, I recently had to let our FTI baker go. As a result, I directed Gummo, The Balloon Boy, to go out and get a store-bought celebratory cake marking this event. I felt a little positive reinforcement for our hardworking staff would be in order. As our budget is a bit tight here at FTI, I instructed him to be wise with the limited funds allotted for this purchase and to pick up "something nice".  Upon his return, Gummo excitedly told me that not only had he found a nice cake for use at our celebration, but, that it was a lavish creation that was cancelled at the last minute by the mother of the intended recipient and that he had bought it at a steep discount to it's original asking price.  This immediately caused me some concern as  I knew that Gummo had been listening to some of the crazy financial philosophies of Dickie the Peap earlier but felt that, under these circumstances, no further harm or embarrassment would be showered upon the FTI Brand.

I was obviously wrong.