OY VE SURVEY

 

OY VE SURVEY

 

I seldom answer a phone call from someone I do not know.  We have a land line which will display a caller number or ID.  My cell only rings for numbers in my contact list, if it is important, I will see a message. 

Occasionally I will pick up on an unknown entity.  It gives me a chance to yell at a stranger.  I know it won’t stop these asshats from calling, but it sometimes just feels good.

Today the land line rang and I felt the need to yell at someone.

“Razzafrast.” (I never answer hello, I try to catch them off guard with a mumble.)

“Hi, this is your Congressman, Frank Malone.  Tomorrow I will be voting in favor of the Presidents bill to end inflation and climate change, boost the economy and ensure our Democracy will not be dismantled.  Please hold on to answer our constituents survey on this historic bill. “

I was not sure why he would be taking a survey on a bill that he has already said he is voting in favor of, but as he wanted my opinion, I hung on, even though I don’t know enough about the bill to give an educated opinion.

“Thank you for waiting:

Press one if you believe this bill will stop inflation.

Press two if you believe this bill will stop climate change.

Press three if you believe this bill will add jobs to the economy.

Press four if you believe this bill will save our democracy. *

Press five for something else.”

Well, that is a bull shit survey! 

I’m sure I will read somewhere that 40% of Mr. Malone’s constituents believe this bill will end inflation, 30% believe it will end climate change, 15% believe it will add jobs, 10% think it will save our democracy, and 5% are too stupid to have a real opinion.

I decided to cast my opinion by hanging up on this important, informative survey.

Later tonight, Mrs. C chastised me for not taking out the garbage last night.

“You should have taken the garbage out last night; it is beginning to stink up the garage!”

“Let me ask you a question:

Did I not take out the garbage last night because

Press one for My wife did not remind me.

Press two for I should have been reminded by my wife.

Press three for It is the wife’s job to nag her husband about the garbage.

Press four for no one reminded your husband about the garbage.

Press five for something else.”

 

She hung up on me!

 

*I will save the one asshat the lecture and interject here that we have a representative republic, not a democracy…I don’t know the difference either but someone always has to point this out to me.  And by the way, democracy was congressman Malone’s word, not mine.

 

NAME THAT BOAT

                                                           NAME THAT BOAT

                                                               

My daughter just informed me they named their new outboard fishing boat "Valkyrie," something about a Germanic chooser of the slain who guided the souls of deceased soldiers.  As her husband is a West Point grad who served several years for our country, it seems an appropriate name.  It did remind me of this post from 2011.

                                                           a very old Cranky re-run

I passed a car the other day that was towing a 28’ cabin cruiser named “You Only Live Once.”  What were they thinking?  I know it is a cute name and sure to get a few laughs along the waterway, but why not put in big lettering under the name I AM NOT A SAILOR!

Boat names should not be cute.  They should honor a loved one (preferably a lady) or perhaps tell something about the owner.  Growing up there were several boats in our family.  My Grandfather ran a business processing waste fabrics into polishing cloths and industrial wiping rags.  His boat was named “ETSAW” (WASTE backwards).  My uncle worked in the business; he owned a boat named “Rags”.  My brother, his wife and their three children all graduated from Duke University in North Carolina.  Their boat is the “Blue Devil.”

My parents named their small cruiser after my Mother’s favorite aunt, “Mable H.”  Dad had a small crabbing boat on the Eastern Shore Maryland named the “Crab Ali” after Alison his first granddaughter. He named an eight foot sailing dink “The Merry Bee”, after Mary Beth, his other granddaughter.

Cute names like “Momma’s Mink”, “Dad’s Cad” and so on are good for a quick laugh, but nautical they are not!

One thing to consider when naming a boat is how a distress call to the Coast Guard will sound:

“Coast guard station, coast guard station, MAY DAY, MAY DAY, this is motor vessel the “Momma’s Mink”.  We are without power and taking on water, May Day May Day!

“This is coast guard station calling motor vessel “Mr. Ming” over.

“Coast guard station that is “Momma’s Mink”.

“This is coast guard station, did you say “Momma’s Mink?  Over.”

“Roger coast guard station. Over.”

“This is coast guard station….What were you thinking? Over.”

“Coast guard station…It was my wife’s idea! Over.”

“This is coast guard station; we are on our way “Momma’s Mink” hope we get there before you sink!”

                                                          OR

"Coast guard station, this is sailing vessel “Hang On Sloopy.”  We are without power and are taking on water. Over.”

“Vessel ‘Hang On Sloopy’ this is coast guard station, are you a sloop? Over.”

“…..Yes, over.”

“This is coast guard station calling sloop ‘Hang on Sloopy’….er…. Hang on ‘Hang on Sloopy’ sloop just hang on….hang on hang on! ……Sorry Sloopy….I had to do it.”

Please people, think.  Do you really want to make a distress call with a boat named “You Only Live Once?”

MRS. CRANKY’s FALL

 

MRS. CRANKY’s FALL

This last week we were visiting my sister-in-law and her kids at a lovely house only a few yards off of Boothbay Harbor in Maine. 

While I was on the porch watching boats, ducks and eagles do their thing on the bay I heard a loud crash followed by several panicky  “Are you ok’s?” from inside.

Mrs. Cranky had been moving a chair from one room to another and she slipped on the small stepdown between rooms.  She was afraid to move, was experiencing nausea, and was on the verge of fainting. 

It was a pretty hard fall.

When we could finally get her up and seated, and the nausea and near fainting passed,  her ankle blew up like a tick in two places and was changing colors like a neon sign. 

It was not good. 

There was no way that she could walk on this swollen miscolored ankle.

I called the closest urgent medical care center.  Their protocol, since they had no ex-ray machine, was to not even see her if she could not put weight on her ankle.  

They said to call the emergency room.

I called the emergency room and they said to go to the urgent medical care center.  Told that we did that, they informed me they could not even suggest she come to the ER over the phone without a referral.

“Well, hypothetically if someone was carried in with a swollen discolored ankle, would you look at it?”

“I am not allowed to say, but hypothetically…probably.”

This was not an encouraging conversation, and as the pain was apparently a notch below excruciating, it was decided we could wait until the next day.

The ankle was iced and I purchased a pair of crutches and an ankle wrap at the local Walgreen’s.

Interestingly the sales person at Walgreen’s thought that the crutches might be on sale, so it took a bit of research while I was chomping at the bit to just get back to the injured Mrs. C.

“I’m kind of in a hurry, I don’t mind paying full price.”

“It will only take a minute sir, I don’t want you to miss out on a sale.”

Why any store would offer a sale on crutches is beyond me, but this was Maine, and you do not rush Mainiacs.

The crutches were not on sale.

Anyway, back at the house, the ankle was even more swollen and discolored, and Mrs. C had to use the facilities.

We wrapped her iced ankle and she was off on the crutches to take care of business.  She damn near fell on her butt once again.

“Don’t you know how to use crutches?”

“I’ve never had to.”

“You never messed with the crutches of some friend who needed them as a kid.”

“No.”

Mrs. C would move her good foot up to the level of the crutches and stop leaving her with no forward point of balance.

“Move the good foot forward past the crutches and then swing the crutches ahead always leaving  a three point stance, like a stool.”

“I can’t.”

For the rest of the day it was hop-teeter-hop to any destination with me behind to stop her from falling.  She did get better at it, but not much.

The next day the swelling was down a bit and there was no pain if the ankle was kept immobile.  We iced it all day and I was an on-call errand boy.

By dinner she could actually limp around without the crutches, which was a relief because her trying to move on the crutches was potentially as dangerous as trying to navigate that between-rooms step the day before.

We were back in New Jersey on the third day after the fall.

Mrs. C insisted on driving, (she claims I drive too slow) and she did not have any issues with the ankle.  The following day, our NJ urgent center does have an ex-ray machine, and we it was confirmed that nothing was broken.

Still limping, Mrs. C should be fine in a few days. 

Good thing, because she is not a good patient, and I am an even worse errand boy.