Susan's Scribblings the Blog

A writer from the Philadelphia area shares the week online.
Susan's Scribblings the Blog
  • Who the Heck is Kayewer?
  • Monthly Archives: July 2011

    • The Mysterious Comcast Converter Box

      Posted at 2:34 am by kayewer, on July 31, 2011

      I get the hinkies with my converter box.  It sits on the television pretty well because my so-yesterday set is still running well, so I have no reason to go out and buy a skinny flat screen and have no place on top on which to balance the box.  The scary part is the front of the box; sometimes when I turn it off it has one little light shining a bright path across my carpet, sometimes two.  What’s with the “One Light, Two Light, Green Light, White Light” thing, anyway?

      Recently Comcast changed the On Demand menus and didn’t seem to actually make much of an effort to tell the customers about it.  Suddenly the realm of options to scroll between screens had disappeared.  Would I be stuck in one menu hell for all eternity unless I turned off or unplugged the set?  By chance I happened to see one of their coming attractions segments in which a helpful lady explained that you can return to previous menus by pressing the “Last” button on the remote.

      That’s when I discovered the “Last” button on the remote.

      Apparently, along with the lessening of American jobs, helpful instructions seem to have also become a premium.  When you get a manual with a product, it’s 100 pages long (20 in English, another 20 in Spanish, and others in various European dialects or Asian characters running vertically and horizontally).

      I really don’t think I’m too old to be hard to instruct via a manual.  I also don’t believe that everybody out there can operate every function offered by a product the minute it’s outside a box, unless they are proud parents of a third grader.

      At least the converter box provides some pleasant auxiliary lighting when the television is off.

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      Posted in Commentary | 1 Comment | Tagged comcast, converter box
    • Want to Do It? Write About It First!

      Posted at 2:03 am by kayewer, on July 24, 2011

      It may be possible that the key to solving some of our problems (or prevent potential problems) is to write about them first.  Our best documents, like the Declaration and Constitution, were well written prefaces to our decisions regarding our lives and futures, so why shouldn’t we carry that idea into other aspects of everyday life?

      “I am going out to buy a $600 smart phone.  The $500 smart phone I bought four months ago is so yesterday.  Besides, if I don’t buy one, the other girls will think I’m poor or a square. . . .”

      (I’ve often said that the value of “wow” is overrated).

      “I’m going to go to the truck supply store and buy some mud flaps with outlines of naked women on them.  Sure, my wife won’t like it too much, but the fellas down at the Beer Bunker will get a kick out of it the first time I drive up with those cute ladies hanging from the rear of my truck.”

      “My company is going to invent the Use-Less 5000.  Folks have been using something else since the dawn of time, but why do things the same old way when you can start all over learning a new way?”

      This idea might also work when somebody is convicted of a crime.  They should have to write a composition about it and it should become part of their record.  No spell checking or ghost writing, either.  Just keep it as it comes out of their pencils onto the paper.  That way we can get a true glimpse into who is committing our crimes these days.  Sure, some of the papers would be brilliant (especially from well-educated criminals), but let’s face facts.

      Sometimes our visual media is overcorrected and sugar-coated or exaggerated beyond normalcy.  The basic composition equalizes the playing field.  If you’re reading this, you already have an opinion of me as the author.  That is how it should always be.

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    • Why the Budget Won’t Budge

      Posted at 2:31 am by kayewer, on July 17, 2011

      It’s a fact of life that nobody who has money wants to lose money, and those who don’t have enough money rarely get enough.  Somewhere along the way, we foolishly empowered our politicians to write in whatever they wanted, and of course they did so.  Washington is filled with Rolls Royces and Lincolns, while the poor duke it out on crime-ridden streets within blocks of the capitol.

      We foolishly wanted to be a free-spending decadent country, and in many aspects we have done so.  Where else do people buy $500 cell phones and throw them out six months later for a new $600 model, while the unemployed live in motels on pennies a day they can’t scrape together?

      We also like to decide what things in our lives should be cheap, and other countries have enacted fair trade with us to enable us to do that.  It’s nearly impossible to find a product that isn’t made in China anymore, yet an article in a recent newscast told of a field of berries that rotted because the owner couldn’t convince anybody to pick them.

      Why should we be surprised that the trillion dollar bill collectors are knocking on the door of the White House, and some folks are slipping out the back door trying to hide?

      President Obama (a man worthy of more respect than he gets, but also doomed to a future of being known for a misstep or two, like any president) knows that only the rich can afford to pay for anything; the middle class (which gets smaller daily) can scrape by when called upon to pitch in some expenses, and the poor can’t help anybody, not even themselves.  But playing political games means that millions of dollars go toward silly self promotional projects (the John Q. Politician Federal Building or Library) that nobody wants to call off because the fellow with whom they shook hands on the deal may not like them anymore.  Oh, my heart bleeds for the pain of the popularity contest.  That time is over, my friends.  It’s absurdism at its most base.

      When did we become this way?  Hedonistic, apathetic toadies who don’t care about anything but social niceties with countries who wish they could take us over and how much the next luxury item costs rather than who built it?

      I don’t care if anybody likes the United States; I just want to be sure it will always be mine.  Nobody ever liked us, because we came over here with nothing and built from scratch, and they were jealous of our sense of democracy, our pursuit of liberty and our resourceful nature.  I fear becoming a slave to another country because of debts somebody else racked up on my tax dollars.  It’s bad enough that average Americans can’t achieve the American Dream, but don’t pervert it into a nightmare, too.  We must not borrow from people who would like nothing better than to see us go bust!  We must not let our self-sustaining land become fertile ground for other countries’ enterprises.  It was bad enough when we allowed our own businesses to ship jobs overseas because it was cheaper to pay a foreign worker than one of our own, but now we’re letting the agricultural industry rot, too.

      I would gladly spend some time out in the sun to pick berries; I’d have slathered on SPF 45 and done it for nothing if the fruit could have gone to some starving familes who needed them.

      In fact, I think President Obama should send those representatives on Capitol Hill out to a field and let them harvest some crops from the land we claimed with the blessing of God and worked to give our own people a way of life.  Maybe the smell of dry-cleaned $500 suits has dulled our politicians’ minds.  They’ve forgotten where they are and how they got there.

      Come on, guys.  America has more decency and honor than you’re showing your countrymen.  Give up the big bucks and start trimming (if you can find scissors that are made in America).

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    • Sandalfoot

      Posted at 2:31 am by kayewer, on July 10, 2011

      At work, we’re allowed to wear sandals between May and October as part of our summer dress code.  I know a lot of people like to bare their feet in summer, but I find it a bit hinkie.

      Feet are strange things, and they stop looking cute shortly after we first learn to walk as they get flatter and splay out and start the lifelong process of collecting icky stuff on them.  Our toes seem to attract crud like Woodstock attracted hippies, and for some reason people like that.  Or I should say they like that while they’re outside barefoot.  After that, the hose or the faucet becomes a must-have to wash off the feet before the crud comes indoors.  Believe me, it does anyway.

      Sandals are also uncomfortable.  In fact, most sandals seem to have been invented by somebody who is into self-flagellation, because flip-flops have a tendency to slap the bottoms of our feet as we walk.  Why they’re called flip-flops is beyond me; they don’t flip or flop, but just slap.  Sliding on puddles on linoleum floors, they make noises akin to armpit music or farting.

      The little knobs that our big and second toes are supposed to surround to keep the sandals on our feet are also little torture devices.  If they’re not smooth, or settle into the wrong place on the foot, the reward is chronic blisters galore.  The current sandals also come with a toe cuff, usually a little band of leather surrounding the big toe in place of a knob.  Same painful possibilities.

      When working in an office environment, sandals can easily become the object of scrutiny, even to the point of having sandal panels to determine which styles are proper and which will send the wearer home to change into something more workplace appropriate.  I feel that, if the footwear looks more gross than the foot it’s on, confiscate the offensive shoes and lend the poor schmuck a pair of black socks until quitting time.  The dress code will be upheld (really, will anybody notice socks?) and nobody will have to look at splayed-out cruddy feet in a pair of examples of what not to wear to the office.

      I do wear sandals on occasion, but I also wear hosiery to keep out crud, and I limit my choices to dressier types that surround my feet and have no knobs or rings.  Sure I’m probably considered a prude playing it safe, but like I said, feet give me the hinkies, so I guess I’m one less cruddy badly shod pair of feet in the general population.

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    • Commander and Key

      Posted at 2:47 am by kayewer, on July 3, 2011

      I miss the days when cars were simple.  You stuck your key in the lock, gave a turn, and you got in.  If you pulled into a gas station, you would crank your window down and pick your octane. Nowadays cars are automated up the yinyang.  We no longer have keys; we have a remote control.  That’s to keep guys happy once they’re outside the home, away from their televisions and surround sound stereo systems.

      The guys who invented the crank windows in cars must have felt secure in the knowledge that their heirs would be set for life.  Instead we now push or pull a button to electronically raise or lower our windows.  Before I got a car with power windows, the attendants at gas stations would approach me from the passenger side and raise an eyebrow in disbelief when I summoned them to my side because I actually had to crank down my car window.  They treated me as if I came from another planet.

      The biggest disadvantage to power windows is that snow won’t slide off when you put them down; with a crank window that was one thing I liked to control from inside the car, especially after spending a half hour clearing off everything else that had snow on it.  Those days are gone.

      People approaching their vehicles have a unique ritual; they assume a stance akin to summoning the family dog, and with feet apart they raise their arms, point the remote at the car and press the door unlock button.  Some cars talk back when this happens, and in a parking lot it’s a chorus of chaos.

      We have become attached to technology and pressing buttons with the skill of Ken Jennings after his third or so “Jeopardy” appearance.  Our Jetson-ized society has permeated every aspect of life.  Even toilets have buttons instead of handles, though I don’t think that makes them any more sanitary.

      Unfortunately I’ll never feel totally in control as keymaster of my car.  The darn thing still has the burden of running on batteries.

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      Posted in Uncategorized | 0 Comments | Tagged car remote, keyless entry
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