Everyone Loves A Charade
So I went to a parade the other day. I was curious to re-experience the phenomenon since it had been quite some time. The last time I saw a parade was from within as a member of the high school’s marching band playing my trombone.
Yeah, it’s really been that long. I avoid public events religiously. I recently lived ten years in a small town. During that time I successfully avoided all the parades, county fairs, classic car shows and even the yearly carnivals festively known to the locals as “dirt bowls.” I’m a hardcore avoider and parade dodger.
The parade started with the police and fire departments showing off their rides. Meh. I grudgingly gave them a pass since this is apparently the traditional way to start a parade. I fleetingly wondered how much it was costing me.
Then came some beauty queens riding in the back of convertibles. Meh. Mildy amoosing.
This was followed by the “citizen of the year” aka a person I don’t know in car.
At last, the grand marshal. A person in a car. I was starting to swoon from … too … much … excitement. Suddenly I realized I could have been back at home watching Star Trek: The Animated Series on Netflix.
In case you missed it, the theme of the parade was “Undying Love For The Internal Combustion Engine.”
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It’s alright – I’m a blogger!
Heart Attack Grill in Chandler, AZ
It’s amazing how fast a crowd can form.
One moment the restaurant hustle and bustle was completely normal, then there was a wild shriek and everything went completely to hell.
A man had collapsed to the floor and a crowd formed around him instantly.
I leaped to my feet and pushed my way through the throng. “Excuse me! Make way, make way!” I said authoritatively. “Come on,” I extolled, “let me pass!”
Breaking through, I saw that no one was even helping the man yet. Jesus Christ, I thought. This is gonna be grizzly.
I moved to get in closer but hands reached out and stopped me.
“It’s alright,” I said. “I’m a blogger!”
As the man lay there choking, I snapped off a few shots with my camera (always at the ready) and jotted down some notes in my handy little book. This is going to make an awesome post, I told myself.
Then some damn doctor showed up to help the man. Shit, I lamented, there goes the story. But it turned out it was a only a false alarm. The man had merely seen the menu and was reacting to the prices. Quite understandable, really.
Luckily I didn’t fall for it. What a lame post that would have been. Good thing I was able to avoid it.
H&R Block should secure our airports
May I suggest that next time you think about airport security that you think about H&R Block instead of TSA?
Yes, it’s true that H&R Block can do so much more than screw up your electronic filings and not have the ability to provide your tax returns from previous years when they handled your filings. They can and should do so much more!
I had to go through H&R Block security procedures yesterday at our local office, and I can tell you – these people are good!
Here’s the story.
My new boss needed some documents picked up from H&R Block. Since I live all the way on the other side of town and about 200 yards from the H&R Block office, he asked if I could pick them up on my way to work. I said, “Sure. No problem.”
I walked into the office and said, “I’m here to pick up some documents for XYZ Corp, Acme Division, Widget R&D Department of the Enterprise Zone Chamber of Commerce Interface Committee.” Or something to that effect.
“Oh yes,” the woman said. “We have those ready to go. May I ask your name?”
“Tom.”
“I hope you understand, Tom. I’m going to have to call and confirm you are authorized to pick these up.”
“No problem.”
“Do you have your office’s phone number?”
Whiskey tango foxtrot!
As often happens in life, I couldn’t help myself. “Eh? Are you serious? You need to vet me. I can grok that. But what possible value is it to you if I provide the frickin’ phone number? What does that prove?”
The point eluded her. “Well, I have to ask.”
So I gave the mental midget the phone number. She called and the person on the other end of the line, apparently trustworthy as far as she knew, told her I was copacetic. Whatever that fucking proves.
Wonderbar.
“Now I need your full name.”
“Tom B. Taker.” At this point I was feeling crotchety and incredulous.
“And now I’ll need to see some ID.”
You mean this fake ID, I thought to myself. If I was dirty so far she hadn’t done jack shit to verify anything about me. I showed her my ACLU card.
And, this is where I was really floored with the sheer professionalism of H&R Block procedures. She grabbed a blank sheet of 8-1/2″ x 11″ paper and wrote it. “Tom B. Taker has been authorized to pick up documents for XYZ Corp, Acme Division, Widget R&D Department of the Enterprise Zone Chamber of Commerce Interface Committee. Documents have been released as of this date.”
She pushed her handwritten scrawl in my face. “I’ll just need your John Hancock right here.”
No way, lady! That would be forgery! š
I signed her official looking form.
Finally, she handed over the documents while giving me one last lingering once over with her shifty eyes. Mwuahahahaha! At last! The documents were mine!
Truly, I vote think we should get H&R Block in charge of airport security ASAP. What could possibly go wrong?
Shouts from the Abyss 
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