Mickey Z

Cool Observer

Saturday, September 17, 2005

My first anti-war protest...plus: Mick Jagger and Happy B'day to Joe from Oregon

Posted by Mickey Z on 09/17 at 07:16 AM

happy birthday joe....and my vote for sure is z-team..
BTW..i want to let you all know how fond mickey is of all of you.Thanks for being part of his team! i am so lucky to live with (the lovely and lithe) monsieur zed.

Posted by michele on from kitchen table 09/17 at 07:38 AM

Happy, HAPPY birthday Joe. May this year be a most wonderful and productive one for you.

Posted by bc on from 09/17 at 08:15 AM

Morning Michele, bc, Mickey and all…

¡FELIZ CUMPLEAÑOS, JOE!

Michele, that was really nice of you to say. We don’t hear enough from you here, Mrs. Zed.

Posted by James on from Puerto Rico 09/17 at 09:46 AM

Hey BC and James. I just added a few touches to the original post if you wanna have a look-see.

As for Michele stopping by more often, well, when she’s not surfing or rock climbing or doing a triathlon, she’s in a web-based Masters program. Time is not on her side.

Posted by Mickey Z. on from Astoria 09/17 at 10:03 AM

well, that explains Michele’s absence...sounds like a good Master’s degree to be going for.

Mick and the rest are mainly concerned with their money...they all fall in line.

I hope to add a story or two later tonight...good afternoon, all.

Posted by James on from Puerto Rico 09/17 at 11:32 AM

Happy Birthday, Joe, and many more.

Mickey, the link to unhindered living was broken. I’ll have to look through it later on. I think there are better uses for the money and energy being spent to put on a spectacle against the war. The simplest would be setting up a network of coordinating sites for anti-authoritarians; writing, art, however they make their living. Setting up a “war chest” for a big strike would be as good, maybe better. Neither has the media appeal, and I think that’s good. I would prefer not be part of some perception management scheme.

Posted by Harry on from 09/17 at 12:43 PM

Unbreakable link to Unhindered Living:
http://tinyurl.com/8lba4

HAPPY BIRTHDAY JOE!! At least this many more, in good health and full possession of what my 84-year-old sharpie friend Babette calls “all your buttons.”

Howdy Michele, glad to hear from you, get back to studying. Have I mentioned that I hate you for snagging Le Z?

Hello there James, nice to see you.

Hi BC.

Interesting proposal, Harry...PBU a la art? Hmmm. Where’s Rosemarie? Like to hear what she has to say.

Posted by Mudge the Expendable on from Texas 09/17 at 01:29 PM

Hi Michele - your coming by is very much appreciated! And, Hi to you, Mickey & James & BC and to Mudge & Harry & Keir and Helga and Fiona and everyone - wherever you might be!
I’ll have a cup of coffee please, black, and a gasp, aargh, Senior’s Menu…
Well, I have an old story which speaks about wealth and power -
I lived in Mexico City in 1980. At the time, it was the largest city in the world. ( 20+ million inhabitants )
My first wife, Maria, and I, moved into a huge house, occupied by a bunch of Americans, in a very, very upscale neighborhood called Lomas de Chapultapec.
I got a job teaching English, through a company run by a guy named Bill, who had deserted from the US Air Force Academy. I taught some business people in banks and at Chrysler de Mexico, and I taught several “private” citizens who, for one reason or another, wanted very much to learn English. Every single person I taught asked me, eventually: “Who do you Americans think you are? Why do you think you have the right to tell the entire world what to do?” Even those occasional wealthy, powerful students asked. Everyone asked. I had many wonderfully radical discussions with a great many people. And, when the conversations ended, they paid me. Generally I enjoyed the job.
Most folks were amazed when I told them where I lived. Chapultapec, they assured me, was home to some of the wealthiest, most famous, most powerful people in all of Latin America. There were also big gangsters there, they told me - big drug and organized crime people. I didn’t think much about it: It just seemed like a pretty nice, very big city neighborhood, with some pleasant cafes and interesting folks to talk with. I frequently spent time, for example, with the pharmacist, at the local drug store. He was a passionate Marxist who just “loved to hate the Ruling Classes - in English.” He was a delightful character.

Anyway, I was walking down the street one morning, well before “class time,” with my backpack on my shoulder, watching some women making tortillas, right out on the sidewalk, on a strange, little machine, the likes of which I’d never seen before. I watched for quite a while, until some of the women got into an argument and cast some angry glances my way. I walked away, down a quiet side street I’d not noticed before. As I walked, I saw a dark-colored sedan rushing down the street. It swerved toward the curb, and right up onto the sidewalk. Four very burley guys in dark suits scrambled out of the car and hustled, apparently, toward the building I was passing. I thought: “Wow, this must be a raid of some sort! Man, I wouldn’t want to get arrested in Mexico City. Yup, that would be very, very bad, indeed.”
Well, the guys were rushing me. Two of them grabbed me by the arms and started to drag me toward the car. I shook them off, briefly, and they seemed stunned. We all stared at each other, momentarily, then one of them held out a badge and said: “We can beat you, donkey’s ass. Get in the car.” And I thought: “I’m about to get arrested in Mexico City. Yup, this is bad.”

I ended up in the back seat, between two of the cops. The guy in the passenger seat, in the front, turned to me and said: “We know you are selling drugs. Who do you work for?” I said - “NO, NO, I just teach English!” The car pulled away from the curb. The guy said: “Give us your back pack! Empty your pockets!” I took out my cigarettes and matches and some little candies, etc., while they tossed the contents of my backpack about the car. They kept asking me who I worked for, and where I was going when they stopped me. I just kept saying: “I just teach English. I’m a nobody. I don’t sell drugs.”
They spoke to each other in Spanish for a bit, then the guy in front said: “Where do you live?” I said: “Sierra Gorda, number 60, in...”
The guy driving the car cut me off with a loud exclamation of some sort. The guy who’d been questioning me looked terrified, suddenly. And, I mean - terrified! He yelled, very quickly: “In Lomas de Chapultapec?????” I said: “Yes, Sir.”

The car instantly lurched toward the curb, while all four of the cops talked loudly at the same time. They were grabbing everything I’d taken out of my pockets and gathering up my books and pens and what not. The guy to my right flung open the door and literally dragged me out. The guy from the front handed me all my stuff, which fell all over the sidewalk and street. He smiled, strangely, and said: “We have made a mistake. We are sorry. Please - please go away!” They jumped into the car, and screeched away.

Posted by joe on from Oregon 09/17 at 01:37 PM

“Authority without wisdom is like a heavy axe without an edge, fitter to bruise than polish.”

--Anne Bradstreet, Puritaness, poetess, and the original Desperate Housewife (1612-1672)

Adrenal overdrive after THAT happened, eh Joe? How much longer did you live in Lomas de Chapultepec after that?

Posted by Mudge on from Texas 09/17 at 02:15 PM

Oh, no more baseball for me today. So I tell a story instead.

I’m in the middle of rewriting for the second time a novel based on the life of my uncle, Cecil Tullis Martin. He was my mother’s older brother, and was not a man who suffered fools gladly…especially if they were related to him. He was an unusual man for his generation in that he was outspokenly anti-clerical, anti-conservative, and appalled by child abuse.

He was disappeared from my mother’s life because he wasn’t willing to be silent about their father’s sexual abuse of himself and my mother, and he had the bad taste and temerity to confront his pious, self-righteous father about it. This infuriated my mother, and combined with my uncle’s inability to pretend he believed in a God who so completely got things wrong, caused her to boot him out of her house and order him never to return. He complied.

I found my uncle in the very early days of Internet records searches. He was a Navy vet, drawing a pension, so it was easy to locate him. I showed up at his house one fine day in 1994, introduced myself as his sister’s last child, and assuaged his suspicions by referring to his Mudder and Deeder, the family’s name for their parents, and calling him “Uncle Bubba.” No one anywhere in his Main Line later life could or would have known these awful names, so clearly I was who I said I was.

His daughter, a nice lady old enough to be my mother, hovered around us until Uncle Bubba snarled at her to get gone so he could tell me his stories. I have often thought that his daughter would have loved to be told those stories, but apples don’t fall far from trees. My uncle was a great deal like his father, a judgmental and unforgiving old man, and I could see it bothered him to hear his own anger. He was restless and he was garrulous and he got drunk as a peach-orchard boar while we talked. While he talked, really, I just sat and listened and made occasional reinforcing grunts. It was all he needed, a new audience and a fifth of gin. Good gin. We drank Tanqueray martinis, up and dirty, three olives a pour.

I stayed the weekend. It was the only time we ever met. He stated very simply and very inarguably that I was not to reveal to my mother or my aunt, their sister, that he was still alive nor that we had ever met, and when I wrote up our conversation, I was to be sure that no one of his generation was still alive to read it. When I asked him how he knew I planned to write the story down, he said, “Didn’t talk to hear my head rattle, laddie, and I knew the whole thing anyway. Why else did you decide to find me thirty-seven years after your mama threw me away? Now you be a good lad and get back in touch with your daughter. Be sure you treat her better than I treat mine.”

He died on July 4, 1996. His daughter called me to let me know he’d gone. I asked her why she’d done it…called me…and she said, “It’s not your fault he never said anything nice to me. You write your book. Send me a copy when it’s published, if I’m still alive. I’ll be right here.”

And she hung up.

Posted by Mudge the Expendable on from Texas 09/17 at 02:57 PM

Oh yes,Mudge. I stood there, buzzing and humming inside, for several minutes - both my pockets turned inside out, my clothes all rumpled, with a big pile of books and papers and pens and candies at my feet, and blowing about in the wind. People wandered by and stared at me and laughed among themselves, in Spanish. However, shortly thereafter, I found a wonderful, new outdoor cafe where I spent quite a happy while…
Thanks much for the good wishes, Mudge, young fella…

Hey, this Center for Unhindered Living is most interesting, indeed, Mickey. It seems to address many things I’ve been thinking and blabbing about, of late. I’ll wander through the site throughout the day. Thanks very much. And thanks to you, Mickey - for this wonderful day, and this wonderful place. As I’ve said before: The cafe reflects the guy who runs it, and this is a fine, fine place to be.

Posted by joe on from Oregon 09/17 at 03:10 PM

Mudge, sorry! - I didn’t see your story. It’s like the start of a fine novel, or a film noir piece. I guess, soon, you’ll sell the rights and move to Hollywood - West Hollywood, I suppose - and we’ll hear about you only through press releases, and pieces in the “Star,” about your being abducted by gay aliens in intergalactic leather…

Hey, here’s an interesting link, given to me by my wife:
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/9145415/
It’s about an anti-rape condom called “RAPEX”
And, as you’d expect, many men think it’s “medieval and barbaric.”

Posted by joe on from Oregon 09/17 at 03:20 PM

Excellent, excellent stories. Once again proving the truth-is-stranger-fiction theory. I know I’m not alone in saying I’d pay to read any book Joe or Mudge might write.

James: Let me clarify. Michele is getting her M.S. in a program that’s web-based. Her degree will be in Pediatric Physical Therapy and Early Intervention. She works in a non-profit pre-school for disabled children. Every single day, she changes a child’s life...and then comes home to do school work.

I just walked in from seeing a bargain matinee of “Lord of War,” a political satire on the global arms industry. I won’t say too much yet in case others plan to see it (which I suggest you do).

How’s the b’day so far, Joe?

Posted by Mickey Z. on from Astoria 09/17 at 03:32 PM

Mickey, what was the problem with your friend’s sign? Don’t you think it’s important to spot the war? In today’s mainstream media, isn’t that getting harder to do? And do you think the elder Mick feels the same way about this war and its troops? I read some review about a blatant anti-gulf-war song they have on the new album. Haven’t been motivated to check out the new Stones album, but I’m glad I’m glad they’re getting back into politics after all these years.

Posted by James on from NYC 09/17 at 03:43 PM

Hey James...how are we gonna differentiate you from the other James? Can we call you JL? Or you could be Jamel and James O’Shea could be Jamo? Suggestions?

Anyway, Jagger made the comment above recently. He was speaking about Iraq (I added a line to clarify that). So, the Street Fighting Man has morphed into Bob friggin’ Hope.

Posted by Mickey Z. on from Astoria 09/17 at 03:47 PM

That’s disappointing, that review made them sound so cutting edge again. There’s really no one left in the music world is there.

Not sure how to differentiate myself from anyone at the moment, and just got this from my friend who filmed it, wasn’t sure if it was applicable here, but this is storytelling Saturday, so…

http://homepage.mac.com/trorb/iMovieTheater81.html

Hope the link works. And yeah, I did make up that about my bike on the spot. And my cats are vegan, so I guess that’s pretty radical.
Ah, check out http://www.vegancats.com for more info on that…

Posted by James on from NYC 09/17 at 03:56 PM

Joe wrote: ‘Hey, here’s an interesting link, given to me by my wife:
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/9145415/
It’s about an anti-rape condom called “RAPEX”
And, as you’d expect, many men think it’s “medieval and barbaric.” ‘

And are any of these men on record with negative opinions about rape? The problem I see with the device is that the woman who so boobytraps herself is liable to be the subject of severe retribution by the rapist’s buddies/partners in crime. It’s horrifying and repunant that such a device is necessary anywhere in the world.

I wanted to see Lord of War instead of that stupid Grimm thing. Compromise is the essence of not getting what you want. Sigh.

“I know I’m not alone in saying I’d pay to read any book Joe or Mudge might write.” I blush, MZ. Part of the fun in writing this fictionalization of my uncle’s life story is learning more about the ancestral stories. Many, many lies have been told to me, wittingly or unwittingly, about where and how my family came from...my maternal patrilineal great-grandfather came to Texas from Opelousas, Louisiana, not from Tennessee as I had heard the story...in fact, it’s all inaccurate so far, and that’s just fascinating! I’d heard it that my maternal matrilineal great-grandfather was the Louisiana connection, Cajun that he was. So far, not so much.

Oops, research geek comes out of the closet. Sorry y’all. And Joe, there is no chance I will ever voluntarily, with my own money, move to California. I hate the place. I was born in Palo Alto while my dad was teaching at Stanford. It’s not my fault, I can’t help it, but I can sure as hell run far far away from my ancestors there.

Posted by The Mudge on from Texas 09/17 at 04:00 PM

There once was a man named Joe
His wit could make a page glow
He was born in September
A date to remember
Where’s the party, I need to know

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JOE ! ! !

Posted by rosemarie jackowski on from at the party 09/17 at 04:06 PM

The party lives wherever you are, Ms. Jackowski.

Posted by Mickey Z. on from Astoria 09/17 at 04:10 PM

Ahhhhh, Mickey. You might be right.

Posted by rosemarie jackowski on from at the party 09/17 at 04:14 PM

Happy Birthday Joe!!!!

Posted by TM on from location location 09/17 at 04:17 PM

Mudge, I believe there’s some Tenessee Williams in your voice, at times. It’s a wonderful voice, by the way. Other great voices abound, here - drawn by the Z!
Speaking of which -
Hi Rosemarie & JL and TM - and thanks to everyone, again. It’s certainly strange to be “spotlighted.” I really enjoyed JL’s cat-flick. (It appears that he - or his buddies, have done some riding out this way. We don’t get many visitors, out here in the Northwest.)
Frank looks like a great cat. We’ve got four cats and a Rottweiler mix. All were “rescued,” in one way or another, except one of the cats who was purchased by my mother-in-law. All of them are far wiser and gentler than I’ve ever been or ever will be… They can completely alter a negative state with just a little glance.

Things are sweet, Mickey Z.
By the way - my wife and I were laughing, again this morning, about your “slap the clown” program. We were also re-delighting in Michele’s post: “It’s not nice to slap clowns, Mickey Z!”

Posted by joe on from Oregon 09/17 at 04:56 PM

Yeah, that clown program really bugged Michele. Personally, I had to pull myself away from all that slapping.

JL: I may eventually post your cat-flick in a main post, okay? At he very least, I’d like to forward it to cat lovers I know.

Posted by Mickey Z. on from Astoria 09/17 at 05:06 PM

I guess that JL is shorter than ‘James from New York’.

Wow, I’m not sure if I’m ready for a main post, a star turn as a featured Expendable, but sure go ahead. I’ll try not to let the fame go to my head. If you do so, you should include the link to the show it was featured on--
http://www.biketv.org
And TA, whom I was working for the day Frank adopted me:
http://www.transalt.org

Joe, go the biketv site, and you could enjoy some of Clarence’s streaming adventures in Portland posted online there.

Now I’m off to here: http://www.coliseumbooks.com

And you’ll never guess what I’ll buying, Mickey…

Posted by James on from NYC 09/17 at 06:22 PM

Let me guess, James L: 15-20 copies of my new book? As for you getting posted here, I did forget to mention the small issue of payola. Surely you know Joe from Oregon paid through the nose for his b’day message today, right?

Posted by Mickey Z. on from Astoria 09/17 at 07:12 PM

Thanks, JL, I’ll peruse the links. Portland is supposed to be quite an extraordinary city to bike in, is that your understanding?

By the way -
Yes, I sent Mickey 100 pounds of Nathan’s Hot Dogs, purchased at QVC, and two tickets to World Wrestling’s “Kill or Be Killed” night in the Cage!

( But, I was led to believe there was a big Christmas Celebration Package included. Damnit, I was looking forward to that...)

Posted by joe on from Oregon 09/17 at 07:23 PM

PS - Thanks for the poem, Rosemarie. I’ve been so self-occupied today, (as opposed to my generally saintly, selfless existence), that I forgot to mention it. You, and The Z, are our heros, Rosemarie. We’re a motley crew, here, but we’re getting it together as quickly as we can.

Oh, also - I guess James-The-First!, is off getting his car worked on. He was lamenting the need for such things in his post, last night. I have the same troubles, from time to time. The problem is, of course, that the entire *#@%!&^%#ing country was designed around the automobile. I can’t imagaine why it “happened this way.” However, I do know that enormous numbers of people MUST have a car, in order to live. (Especially in flood-prone areas.)

Even more dreadful, perhaps, is the fact that so many people love their cars as much or more than they love their spouses or children or parents. Sometimes I fantasize about a world which does not contain either TV or personal vehicles. It’s amazing how interesting such fantasies can be.

Posted by joe on from Oregon 09/17 at 07:48 PM

You gave me two tickets to the steel cage match, Joe, but you neglected to mention the seats were inside the cage.

Here’s a little something I posted on the American car culture: http://tinyurl.com/9xrku.

Fellow Expendables: Hope you’ll stop by here tomorrow because I can guarantee things will get out of control.

Posted by Mickey Z. on from Astoria 09/17 at 07:59 PM

Amazing list, Mickey.
I remember the first time I was in L.A.. The air was a thick, orange-brown. On a bus, later, I remarked about it to a fellow passenger. He said he’d once been out on a boat, about 30 miles from shore. He said he was almost right under the distal edge of this vast toxic cloud.

I also recall listening to Rush Limbaugh comment on Al Gore’s remark that the internal combustion engine was one of the greatest evils in all the history of mankind. Rush said: “Is this guy a nutjob, or what?”

One more: When I was in Seattle, there was a massive tire-dump area, somewhere outside of the city. It was the tire dump for much of the Puget Sound population. It somehow caught fire. Fire companies visited the site, en masse, from all over the NorthWest, and even came up from California. They could not put it out. So, they sent for Red Adair, that legendary oil-fire-fighter, from Texas. He spent lots of time and money messing with it. Result?
A public announcement that - “We’ll have to wait for it to go out by itself!”

Posted by joe on from the dense forest of Ur 09/17 at 08:51 PM

Hey Joe , everyone, speaking of anti-environmentalism, I’ve come to think it’s not just short sightedness and greed. There’s a neurotic quality to it too. Geothermal exchange is very effective and reduces long terms costs of heating and cooling tremendously. There are now solar tiles for roofing that extend the life of the roof, make power cheaper and can lie flat. If you’ve ever done any commercial roofing, you know can really, really appreciate the savings on extended roof lifetime. So what I think is that there’s an angry controlling agenda at work. Making money is secondary, where it figures in at all. What with corporate welfare and golden parachutes more or less guaranteeing a soft landing for execs, the pressure to perform produce is gone.

A friend of mine wrote a while back that traditional political and legal remedies are locked down. There’s not much that can be done, and not with the resources we have. One of his goals, and mine too, is make it uncool to be a control freak or a cretin. Which is one of the best things about this site. Here it is cool to be skeptical, ornery and sensible. There’s no pressure to be a jerk! The biggest complaint of my friends working to make ends meet in corporate lock down land is how much pressure there is to be a jerk.

Posted by Harry on from 09/17 at 09:26 PM

I like that concept, Harry. Inertia and stubborness can be worse than greed when it comes to slamming the door on change. In addition, our culture often glorifies the jerk and thus, it’s alluring to play that role. I know I’m particularly good at it. I can think on my feet, articulate my thoughts well, and I’ve displayed quite a mean streak every now and then. It takes real work to resist the temptation of going cretin on folks. It’s an ugly, counterproductive characteristic and I’m proud to hear the Expendables described as “skeptical, ornery and sensible” but not jerks.

I’m shutting down for the night soon. Thanks, all...and one more time: Happy B’day, Joe. Hope to see most of you tomorrow.

Posted by Mickey Z. on from Astoria 09/17 at 09:41 PM

Good night Mickey, Joe, and all....ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

Posted by rosemarie jackowski on from at the party 09/17 at 10:19 PM

Joe, things like this “Mudge, I believe there’s some Tenessee Williams in your voice, at times” will turn my head and make me think I got talent. You need to stop that.

Born Into Brothels is agonizing to watch.

Posted by Mudge the Expendable on from returning from another birthday hoopla 09/17 at 11:10 PM

Isn’t this around the time when the night crew take over? Joe? Mudge? Anyone?

If not, so be it. But a very strange thing happened to me at the garage this morning, I entered with a problem, that I assumed would be extremely costly and left with my car fixed perfectly at no charge.

It was a much needed break from a series of bad luck events for my wife and me.

Jamo, huh, Mickey...I am not sure of that one, though one of my favorite aunts does call me that sometimes. James Michael would work but it’s too long. I go by my initials on my website: JOS. I am also open to Jaime in honor of my current host, Puerto Rico.

I am guessing James from NYC is like me and never goes by Jim or Jimmy. I am open to suggestions.

Mudge, I am terribly interested in your book. I have some similar subject matter that I plan on tackling on my blog at some point in the future.

Joe, PR rejects pedestrian rights, it seems. You can not make here without a car...I have tried and have the scars to prove it.

One last Happy Birthday wish to you, my friend.

Posted by James on from Puerto Rico 09/17 at 11:18 PM

ah, there you are Mudge…

Posted by James on from Puerto Rico 09/17 at 11:19 PM

G`night, Rosemarie. Sleep well - you’ve earned it.
Mudge - U do got talent. Take if frum bme!
Yes, I’ll not go to see it. I spent a year in Mexico City, as I noted earlier, and 5 months in India. I’ve seen poverty and wretchedness in real life, on a scale that most folks can’t even conjure up in their worst nightmares. I’ll certainly not forget - but I’m not renting a film which will eat at me for days or weeks. I hear its VERY good. Perhaps I’m just a coward, or maybe I’ve eaten enough poison so that the taste never quite leaves my mouth anymore…

James - good news, eh? I’m glad to hear it. And, about walking: Though I’ve not been to PR, if Mexico was any sort of example, I understand it. There were many areas in which, if you were on the street, you were going to die. Period. I watched old people clutching little kids and all their belongings - sprinting, really, really sprinting across streets, because, - otherwise, they would die. Period. Buses regularly ran people over. Many streets were 5 or 6 “lanes” wide, but with zero “lane markings” painted anywhere. People would wind across these immense boulevards at amazing speeds, and without turn signals.
BTW - James the First might do it, but it’s long. James I, is short and rather magisterial! Well, let’s all sleep on it.
Thanks much for the birthday greetings, again, James. I’ve much appreciated your friendship and support - my friend.

Harry - it does seem that control - just control - IS one of their major aims. It makes sense, in a very perverse sort of way. The more we’re habituated to “ asking permission,” or assuming that we must first “ask permission,” the more government becomes insinuated into the very “moment by moment” of our daily lives.
The “being a jerk” syndrome is part of this phenomenon, it seems. About 25 years ago, I worked for one of those tele-marketing firms, for 4 hours. They give you a page of text, and you just read it “at” whoever answers the phone. So, I made my first call, read my text, listened to the fellow complain about the timing of my call, apologized, and hung up. The lady sitting next to me, and a lady behind her - my “fellow marketers,” were both glaring at me as if I’d just committed murder. I was stunned by the rage in their faces. I said: “What’s wrong?” The lady next to me replied: “You used the word very ( or really, or some such superlative) 5 times! That word is not in the text! You’re supposed to strictly adhere to the text at all times!”
I felt real fear, Harry.

I’ve felt it many times, since, though to a lesser extent. Slavish adherence to the methodology completely eclipses the point of using the methodology in the first place.
You’re in the desert, digging for water, for the X Corporation. You’re new and you just start digging. Soon, your hole is deeper than any of those around you, and shortly thereafter, your hole starts to fill with water. You announce your success. A manager arrives and, rather than congratulate you, he notes with disgust that you’ve used a round point shovel rather than a trenching blade. Are you insane? What about the protocols? You point out the obvious: The aim is to find water, and you’ve done that. The reply is that - [ finding water is NOT the point! ]

And, yes - I’ve done a lot of roofing, Harry. At my last house, I was determined to put up a steel roof. Couldn’t do it. Within the town proper: “Composition or slate roofing, only, Sir. Zoning restrictions are quite clear.”

Thank you, too, for the good wishes, Harry. I like it when you drop by…
G`night all. -joe

Posted by joe on from 125th & Broadway 09/17 at 11:56 PM