You Don’t Know Polite
Why does shit like this happen to me? (This is my version of the “dark and stormy” night opening as a literary device.)
My wife and I were out to dinner and having our usually jolly time. Things were clicking. My jokes were firing on all cylinders. I was witty. Our repartee was fast and furious on a highly intellectual level.
As we exited the restaurant I was feeling pretty good. (It could happen.) I saw four people behind us. They were far enough back that I could have let the door close and no slight would have been perceived. I decided to be nice and waited to hold open the door.
They came through single file. As she passed, the first person actually said, I kid you not, “Thank you.”
Wow. It’s a modern day miracle. I’m now that much closer to sainthood. I was momentarily stunned and at a loss for words. As quickly as I could I responded with, “You’re welcome.”
Oops. By then the third person was already walking by. She heard what I said and turned and looked at me. With dagger eyes. Of hatred and death.
Ah. She thought I was talking to her and assumed I was being snotty because she decidedly did not bother to say thank you.
Good intentions: 0. Crass misunderstandings: 1.
Bad form, Mr. Smee. Bad form.
And now some politeness tips from yours truly.
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Bridges and Icebergs
This right here is payback from way back I don’t play that
This right here is payback from way back I don’t play that
This right here is payback from way back I don’t play that
This right here is payback from way back I don’t play that
Recognize a real dime
When you see mine
And don’t try to be one
You fuckin peon
I been like Deion for eons
You ain’t nuttin but a biotch
Messed around and let me read up
I come back through and tear the street up
What did Chris Christie know and when did he know it? Did he order the code red? Can we handle the truth?
This post will explore none of those questions.
A recent poll found that 42 percent of Americans believe Christie has been telling the truth about “Bridgegate” and 44 percent believe he is not. The poll had a margin of error of about 3.5 percent. In other words, we’re not sure.
That makes sense because only those who know really know. For the rest of us, it’s just conjecture and opinion.
But, perhaps, will can still draw some conclusions. Let’s try.
For instance, let’s say we lift up a rock and see a potato bug. A single, solitary wiggly potato bug on freshly exposed earth who suddenly feels very unsure of his status in the universe. What can we make of this?
Is he the only one? Might there be more, perhaps if we lift more rocks? Which is the simplest explanation?
I submit that the simplest explanation is that where there is one it is likely there are more. The alternative is that what you see is a one-time-only occurrence which, although possible, may not be the most probable possibility.
If this line of reasoning holds water, then perhaps our inquisitiveness about things like Bridgegate should explore a totally different direction.
In other words, what if Bridgegate is just the tip of the iceberg?
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#Travel: Cornering #Oregon – #photography
Oregonians know well the distinctive shape of their state. It’s found on key chains, souvenir shot glasses, business logos, decorative plates and innumerable wood-carved thingies. I feel bad for states like Colorado that have an outline about as exciting as a rectangle.
Colorado, Wyoming and Utah are the only states which have boundaries defined solely by lines of latitude and longitude. (Thanks for the arcane knowledge, Wikipedia!)
After hearing about all of the sunny and warmer days that have been happening on the Oregon coast, this weekend my wife and I decided to go see for ourselves. The plan was to leave cold and foggy Portland behind and go all the way around the NW corner of that unique Oregon shape.
Here are a few photographs from the trip. I’ve left them full-size to they can be clicked to enlarge.
Love What You Doo Doo
Tonight, on a very special edition of Sunday Regurgitation (self-reblog) we go all the way back to 2009 when this blog was in its infancy. That means diapers. And, once upon a time, I wrote about another kind of especially nefarious shit known as “you gotta love what you do.”
I thought it was brilliant. I thought it was prophetic. I think it contained words.
Fast-forward to today and a thought-provoking piece I found on Slate.com entitled, “In the Name of Love.” Among other things, it makes this bold claim:
Elites embrace the “do what you love” mantra. But it devalues work and hurts workers.
–Miya Tokumitsu
That sound you just heard was my heart leaping in my chest. Over four years later and someone is preaching to my choir. Yessss!
I love it when the rest of the world catches up.
Today’s offering features my original post and the recently found bit of goodness. Sorry, I’m fresh out of palette cleansers.
Enjoy!
Self Reblog: Thoughts on “loving what you do”
Sweet Kismet: Slate.com – In the Name of Love
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