tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15977200971923390762024-03-13T21:23:59.618-07:00Psychic AccordionistPsychic Accordionisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13085679250708685168noreply@blogger.comBlogger62125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1597720097192339076.post-5636457675105175622011-03-26T07:30:00.000-07:002011-03-26T07:30:07.193-07:00I Love Being WrongYou read that right. I love being wrong. Especially when I make some dire forecast based on the knowledge I have about astrology. For those of you who would scoff and say, “You mean YOU, a college-educated, 3-language-speaking, home-owning, bill-paying, accordion-playing adult actually believe in that stuff?” I would retort, “I know enough about it to pay attention.”<br />
<br />
So, I would love to be wrong about what I see coming up in the next week or so. The planet Mars, which rules war, explosions, fire, etc. is moving from watery Pisces to fiery Aries on April 2. That would be enough to make you check all appliances before you leave the house or review your escape plans, just in case. But it’s also headed for a conjunction with Uranus, which rules unexpected events, blow-ups, uranium (get it?) big upsets and discoveries. Mars plus Uranus in a fire sign? POW!!! <br />
<br />
At the time, the planet Saturn will be square the U.S. Sun. I could write the book on Saturn square the Sun, because it is a feature of my own natal chart. In a personal horoscope, Saturn square (a 90º angle) the Sun gives the individual, among other unpleasant things, the feeling of “not being good enough”. Compliments go in one ear and out the other. Insults and slights get stuck in the brain like snot on a silk shirt. With this placement, I would forecast that the U.S. could be headed for an event that will generate national sorrow and “We’re not so great anymore” feelings. <br />
<br />
Add one more ingredient, Pluto. It is currently at 7º Capricorn, which puts it within orb of a square to Mars and Uranus. Pluto rules obsessions, destruction and rebirth. With Pluto, Mars, Uranus, the Sun and Saturn all squaring off and glaring at each other, I would suggest saying lots of prayers. The prayer that I made up goes like this: “Dear All-That-Is, Jesus, Allah, Buddha, God and Universe, please make the upcoming week an explosive one for everything positive: discoveries, new innovations, ideas and technologies, and destroy only that which does not serve us. And by the way, keep me and all my stuff intact and safe. Thank you!”<br />
<br />
Astrology does not predict exact events, but it does point to the kinds of events we may experience. I’m hoping that we might experience the positive side of what the planets stand for next week when unexpected incidents change our world.Psychic Accordionisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13085679250708685168noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1597720097192339076.post-66850233949820826222011-03-10T08:39:00.001-08:002011-03-10T08:39:39.401-08:00Fun on the CTASince I’ve gotten a job near downtown Chicago, when I’m not biking I take the CTA. For those of you who don’t live in the Chicago metropolitan area, that stands for Chicago Transit Authority. Apparently there is a CTA Manners and Regulations Handbook that many riders have studied. It goes something like this:<br />
<br />
1. If you have a huge backpack, make sure to plant yourself in the aisle so nobody can get past you. If you are seated, place the backpack on the seat next to you so others, especially seniors and the handicapped, are discouraged from taking that seat.<br />
<br />
2. If you are taking the train and don’t have a seat, by all means stand in the doorway, no matter how many people need to exit before you. That way, you will make the maximum number of folks uncomfortable as they are obliged to squeeze past you.<br />
<br />
3. When riding the bus and there is an open two-seater, plop your carcass down in the aisle seat. It is optional whether you should place your belongings on the window seat or leave it empty. If another passenger has the temerity to request the window seat, allow him or her to take it, but do not move your body as they slither past. Likewise, if the other person needs to get off before you do, do not rise to let them pass, but grudgingly turn your body ever so slightly so that they are forced to brush your face with their behind.<br />
<br />
4. There are times when the “T” in CTA is just for show. Such as when the bus drivers crawl along the street, even though the road is empty. The response to this if you are traveling with another person is the following dialogue, “Did that lazy brother-in-law of yours get a job yet?” “No, he’s still a bus driver.” If you are traveling by yourself, loudly request that the driver please slow down, as his reckless driving is making you carsick.<br />
<br />
5. Talk as loudly as possible on your cell phone. How else will the other riders be able to enjoy hearing about your latest doctor appointment, fight with your boss or disagreement with the judges on American Idol? Remember, it’s all about YOU. None of those indifferent strangers on the CTA are going to ask about your life, so it’s your responsibility to make sure they get the whole story.<br />
<br />
6. Every one of the preceding five points shall be null and void when you remember that all the other riders, like you, are making the city a better place by taking public transit instead of driving.Psychic Accordionisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13085679250708685168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1597720097192339076.post-65985940047477131262010-08-27T20:17:00.000-07:002010-08-28T07:55:20.967-07:00THAT'S Specious Reasoning!Don't you love those lies the media tell you that are just implausible enough to make you wonder if they're true after all? The first one I am exposing is that you can get sunburned worse on a cloudy day than on a sunny one. Riiiiiiight. In all my years of busking during peak hours, I have never once gotten burnt on a cloudy day, even in mid-July. However, on sunny days, even in September when the rays aren't as intense as they are in mid-summer, I have gotten burned despite slathering myself with 20 SPF sunscreen. Liars!<br />
<br />
Then there is the oft-surfacing lie about tea vs. coffee and which has more caffeine. "Did you know tea has more caffeine than coffee?" scream the headlines every couple years or so. Oh yeah? Then why do people get a wake-up buzz from coffee but not from tea? Perhaps they bury the fact that English breakfast tea has more caffeine than decaf coffee in the fine print as a footnote to a disclaimer. Brilliant; way to get folks to click on your story. (Morons.)<br />
<br />
Finally, there is the blatant fashion lie that if a woman has lumps of fat on her back, it's because her bra is too big, not too small. Horse manure! Case in point: at the beginning of this spring, I had unsightly lumps of fat on my back and I was wearing a 38B. All summer long I've been biking 16 miles a day to work and back. The fat on my back is now history, and I'm wearing the same bras that I wore at the beginning of spring, the 38Bs. So it stands to reason that on May 12, the day I started biking regularly, the bras were SMALLER on me, not LARGER. Where do the fashion writers do their research, on Planet Idiocracy?<br />
<br />
I rest my case.Psychic Accordionisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13085679250708685168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1597720097192339076.post-91124179628220507302010-07-31T06:27:00.000-07:002010-08-01T06:56:16.504-07:00Cell Phone<object height="344" style="background-image: url("http://i3.ytimg.com/vi/FGFm3Zg6pr4/hqdefault.jpg");" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/FGFm3Zg6pr4&hl=en_US&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/FGFm3Zg6pr4&hl=en_US&fs=1" allowscriptaccess="never" allowfullscreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br />
<meta content="text/html; charset=utf-8" http-equiv="Content-Type"></meta><meta content="Word.Document" name="ProgId"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 9" name="Generator"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 9" name="Originator"></meta><link href="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/Mazurka/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/msoclip1/01/clip_filelist.xml" rel="File-List"></link><style>
<!--
/* Style Definitions */
p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal
{mso-style-parent:"";
margin:0in;
margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";}
@page Section1
{size:8.5in 11.0in;
margin:.5in .5in .5in .5in;
mso-header-margin:.5in;
mso-footer-margin:.5in;
mso-paper-source:0;}
div.Section1
{page:Section1;}
-->
</style> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">Music and Lyrics © 2010 Mazurka Wojciechowska</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Well you’re talking on a cell phone (cell phone)</div><div class="MsoNormal">Annoying all the folks around you (cell phone)</div><div class="MsoNormal">Well you’re talking on a cell phone (cell phone)</div><div class="MsoNormal">Oblivious to the damage you do (yes, you!)</div><div class="MsoNormal">Well you’re talking on a cell phone </div><div class="MsoNormal">In your hand that thing’s a real hell phone</div><div class="MsoNormal">Well you’re talking on a cell phone, you self-centered oaf</div><div class="MsoNormal">You think it’s all about you.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> Well you're steering with your knees cuz you’re talking while you drive</div><div class="MsoNormal"> It’s a wonder anybody in your path is still alive</div><div class="MsoNormal"> Your reaction time is slow or not at all,</div><div class="MsoNormal"> Hey! Was that a stop sign? Ooh, gotta take this call!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">CHORUS</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> Well you talk in the restaurant on a date</div><div class="MsoNormal"> And you talk during church cuz it just can’t wait</div><div class="MsoNormal"> Your incessant blabbing is out of hand</div><div class="MsoNormal"> And that’s why you’re getting this reprimand</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">CHORUS</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> Well you talk on the train and standing in line</div><div class="MsoNormal"> I’d like to shove that phone where the sun don’t shine</div><div class="MsoNormal"> I bet you even talk on the toilet in the loo</div><div class="MsoNormal"> Well, watch out, we’re gonna play a trick on you! </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">CHORUS</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Mazurka Wojciechowska, Lead Vocal/Accordion; Jason Monroe, Bass Guitar; Logan Huber, Drums; Cameron Huber and Jackson Lake, Badd Boys; Valerie J. Glowinski, Camera; Katherine Monroe and Jen Parkman, Disciplinarians (not pictured)Psychic Accordionisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13085679250708685168noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1597720097192339076.post-82435972207614028852010-07-27T10:02:00.000-07:002010-07-27T10:04:38.980-07:00A Trio of Rants<strong>The Biggest Lie of the Early 21st Century</strong><br />
<br />
<em>“Your call is very important to us.”</em> Bull! If it was that important, someone would pick up the damn phone in the first place. <br />
<br />
And while we're on the subject...Earth to pathetic optimists: Calls are only important when they benefit the person being called. Calls from friends, family or from parties offering me gigs are "very important to me". But if you’re calling to ask for money or beg me to hire you to perform a service I don’t need in the first place, your call is "not important to me". In fact, I can think of ten things I’d rather do than talk to you, and one of them is cleaning the bathroom. <br />
<br />
<strong>I Got Laid Off and I’m <em>Better</em> Off</strong><br />
<br />
I was a ‘victim’ of the Great Purge of 2009. I spent 21 years at a financial services firm and I loved it. But face it, working for the same company that long can make you fat and lazy if you’re prone to inertia, like I am. Since I hadn’t taken a vacation in 6 years, I was relieved when they kicked my butt out the door. I spent last summer looking for work and hanging out with my pals. That hogwash about how looking for work should be your full-time job is one of the biggest fairy tales of the decade. Since there’s always going to be someone smarter, younger, or willing to work cheaper than you, you might as well enjoy your time off, spend money sparingly, and become acquainted with all the folks you’ve been neglecting over the past few years. Look for work, but don’t kill yourself doing it. <br />
<br />
When the right job came along I grabbed it. Even though I’m making a fraction of what I earned at the financial joint, I am a little less fat and a lot less lazy, and what’s wrong with that?<br />
<br />
<strong>Those Annoying Cell Phone Talkers</strong><br />
<br />
I was riding the train trying to read the Chicago Tribune but couldn’t get past John Kass’s first paragraph. Not that John wasn’t entertaining that day, but there was a loudmouth paralegal gabbing on a cell phone right in front of me going on and on about some boring court garbage that I couldn’t care less about. Miss Blabberpuss treated the entire train car to a long, dull one-sided drone, and that’s part of the reason why I wrote the song <strong>Cell Phone</strong>.<br />
<br />
A line from the song: <em>Well, you talk on the train and standing in line, I’d like to shove that phone where the sun don’t shine!</em> Hear the whole thing on YouTube. It’ll be posted to my channel in the near future: www.youtube.com/cimbalok.Psychic Accordionisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13085679250708685168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1597720097192339076.post-52382981235342419882010-05-17T16:03:00.000-07:002010-05-17T16:06:14.592-07:00Hora bătrânească<object height="344" style="background-image: url(http://i2.ytimg.com/vi/IBbTyWw3peQ/hqdefault.jpg);" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/IBbTyWw3peQ&hl=en_US&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/IBbTyWw3peQ&hl=en_US&fs=1" width="425" height="344" allowscriptaccess="never" allowfullscreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object>Here is a song from Northeast Romania. If not for the language, you would think it was Klezmer! In fact, much of Klezmer music comes from this area: N.E. Romania, Moldova & Ukraine.Psychic Accordionisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13085679250708685168noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1597720097192339076.post-56102338813251244222010-05-05T16:50:00.000-07:002010-05-11T17:30:27.872-07:00Cut Education First!Dateline: Illinois<br />
The News: Scott Cohen, the disgraced pawnbroker forced to withdraw from the race for Lieutenant Governor now decides he wants to waste his money trying to get elected Governor!<br />
<br />
Hey Scott, Illinois does not need a governor. What it does need is a CFO with an advanced degree in accounting. If he looks like a movie star, so much the better, but I’ve never met anyone with a PhD in accounting who had time to style his – or her – hair six times a day. Absent a CFO, Illinois will have to make some hard choices. Liberals ask, “What services would you cut first?” And this liberal replies, “Education.”<br />
<br />
That’s right, if I were the Guv, and be glad I’m not, the first thing I would do is eliminate all public education in Illinois. Nothing warms the heart more than seeing a parade of teachers tromping down to the unemployment office, where they will then be doled out your tax dollars to waste on booze, cigarettes and prostitutes. It’s not just the teachers who will be siphoning off your hard-earned cash, but also the custodians who wipe up all those footprints, the school nurses who aren’t allowed to dispense aspirin without threat of a lawsuit and those cafeteria slackers who sling slop onto your kids’ lunch trays. Throw in all the planners down at the Board of Ed, curriculum writers, administrative assistants and the folks who record those annoying voice mails you get whenever you need to reach someone ASAP, and you’ve got a queue of jobless mopes that would stretch from Alton to Antioch.<br />
<br />
What then, you ask, is to be done about our youth’s education? One solution is home school. That’s right, if your idea of home schooling is making sure your kid learns to read at a fifth grade level, develops enough computer skills to find your favorite celebrity’s website, can count to $12,000, maybe learns a couple Bible verses and can tune a radio to the easy listening station, your job will be simple. For those parents who have a marketable skill, you’re probably unemployed yourself and can spend your idle days teaching it to your offspring. If you’ve dreamed of having a doctor or lawyer in the family, time to move to Indiana. <br />
<br />
Another solution is vouchers for private schools. Some spoil-sports complain that the vouchers do not cover enough of the tuition to allow truly low-income children to attend. But with the money the state saves on all those education professionals who are now drawing a fraction of their former salary on unemployment, we can pay the kids to sweep the streets, pick up trash, mow the lawns of the richest politicians and clean toilets in hotels. That should earn them enough money to make up the difference. Their new jobs will keep them off the streets, and if they don’t have time to do their homework by the time they finish their shifts, they can join the ranks of Illinoisans who read at a fifth grade level, know how to find their favorite celebrity websites and hum easy-listening tunes while shopping at Aldi. Child labor laws? Hey, that’s why man invented white-out.<br />
<br />
So, cut education funding first. Let the big-wigs in the public education system who make six figures while asking their faculties to take pay-cuts and forgo raises find out what peanut butter on crackers for breakfast, lunch and dinner tastes like.<br />
<br />
Finally, a quote from my favorite TV show:<br />
<br />
Homer: By the way, I was being sarcastic.<br />
Marge: Well, duh.Psychic Accordionisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13085679250708685168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1597720097192339076.post-84290204460363153262010-04-24T06:41:00.000-07:002010-04-24T06:47:39.688-07:00A Surfeit of SurveysIn the last year or so, I have noticed that practically every business you patronize asks you to complete a survey of their work. Shortly after a liquor store took and scanned my driver’s license (ostensibly to make sure I was over 21, and if you believe that’s the real reason, I have stock in Broadway Bank I’d like to pitch to you) I began getting phone calls asking me to take surveys. After the first one, during which a female sounding about 15 years old asked me if I was “planning to purchase an automobile in the next twelve months” I refused to talk to them. Some would ask for “the man of the house” and I would tell them he was in the shower. Picture that.<br />
<br />
The business world’s reliance on such surveys was, is and always will be bogus, as it radiates hypocrisy. Here is some advice from someone without an MBA for these clueless companies:<br />
<br />
1. If you really care about your American customers, your phone service is comprised of native American-English speakers. Making me spend three times as long on the phone with someone who has memorized a few lines but neither speaks nor understands English isn’t going to steer me in your direction a second time.<br />
<br />
2. Don’t ask me to rate your staff. If your parents taught you to say, “Please,” “Thank you,” and “I’m sorry,” you would know the difference between courteous, rude and indifferent service. If not, go back to finishing school.<br />
<br />
3. Regarding #2 above, if your service stunk, you’ll hear about it. Thanks to the Internet and various sites such as Yelp, if you shaft your customers, you - and your competitors - will hear <em>all</em> about it. Just another reason to make sure you are aware of what goes on in your company. In other words, don’t call us, we’ll call you. The important phrase here is, <strong>“Don’t call us.”</strong><br />
<br />
4. If you think we’ve never heard of Angie’s List, dream on. Angie’s List is one of the few legitimate survey and rating institutions around, along with the magazine Consumer Reports. You should regard them with fear, respect and awe.<br />
<br />
5. Can you imagine if a 12-year-old boy took one of your surveys and gave deliberately untrue answers just to mess with you? Keep hounding us, and that’ll happen.<br />
<br />
6. Are you properly training your employees and giving them 3-month trial periods before handing them the key to the Executive Washroom? If so, you don’t need to constantly ask us, “How are we doing?” <br />
<br />
7. Are you offering us a chance to win an obscene amount of money if we go on line and fill out a survey about your company? Let's hear from one person who has actually won the $30,000. How stupid do you think we are? We're on to you, and know you just want our e-mail addresses so you can spam us. Give it up.<br />
<br />
The words survey and surveillance have the same root. Some of us don’t want to be watched 24/7, and we don’t care to reveal our thoughts about every facet of our existence either. Here’s a hint: confine your surveys to the most obnoxious celebrities and the poor saps who go on those reality TV shows. After a while, they’ll be punching you in the virtual jaw, too.Psychic Accordionisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13085679250708685168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1597720097192339076.post-38479645629238443092010-01-25T10:38:00.000-08:002010-01-25T10:38:31.070-08:00If Mozart had lived, he'd be old by nowMozart’s 254th birthday is in two days and our local classical radio station is treating us to a surfeit of recordings of <em>La ci darem la mano</em> from one of his greatest operas, <em>Don Giovanni</em>. If they play this duet any oftener it’s going to start sounding like a commercial, so take a hint and drop the needle on some of the other great music from this opera. One would think that a classical station would have someone familiar enough with this opera on their staff to tell the programming czar, “Hey! When was the last time we heard from Don Ottavio?” or “Donna Elvira’s going to come after us with a meat cleaver because we never play any of her arias."<br />
<br />
I used to like this duet, but it’s fast becoming a Moldy Mozart Oldie.Psychic Accordionisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13085679250708685168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1597720097192339076.post-47313772085831841212010-01-23T09:13:00.000-08:002010-01-23T09:24:40.350-08:00Why I Hesitate to Donate….The obvious reason is I’m a skinflint. However, there have been many excellent causes that I’ve wanted to donate at least <em>something</em> ($10? $20? $50?) to and decided not to. The reason: I end up on the organization’s mailing list and can’t get off. <br />
<br />
Has this happened to you? A friend dies, the family requests that you donate to a certain non-profit, you do so in your friend’s honor, and you immediately start getting mail asking for donations. Or you hear about an organization that serves a good cause, make a one-time donation because you can afford it at the time, and they assume that you have a flammable bank account and come after you over and over. I have had this issue with four charities that I can remember offhand: a hospital, two health foundations and an organization that feeds the hungry. All good causes, but one penalty for my generosity was ending up on their <strike>pestering</strike> mailing lists. Another penalty is having your name sold (misspelled, naturally) to other organizations that would like you to split your assets with them. For some reason, these are usually the ones that send you return address labels with your name butchered to the extent that you could end up on a terrorist watch list if you ever actually made use of the labels.<br />
<br />
In all fairness, there is one organization I donate to that has <em>never</em> sold my name to another charity and for that reason I will mention them here by name: it’s the <strong>Slovak Heritage and Folklore Society</strong>. They have never asked me to buy raffle tickets either, a practice my fiscally conservative upbringing equates with the sin of gambling. So there are some organizations that graciously accept donations without turning into harping shrews, shrieking for more, more, more.<br />
<br />
I wish some enterprising do-gooder would create a non-profit that donates to good causes without revealing the donor’s name and address. Call it, say, Give In Freedom from Tyranny, or GIFT for short. Take the money, write the donor a tax receipt on GIFT’s letterhead and send the donation off to the cause in question. GIFT then becomes the brunt of all that subsequent begging but doesn’t care, because they have a massive shredder!<br />
<br />
I can’t believe I’m the first person who thought of this.Psychic Accordionisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13085679250708685168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1597720097192339076.post-1215393175253107582009-12-29T19:01:00.000-08:002009-12-29T19:44:52.318-08:00Parting Shot of 2009The final gift of 2009 is...FULL BODY SCANNERS AT AIRPORTS! Here are a few comments on that lovely new development.<br />
<br />
For those who would say, "<em>Anything</em> to make us safe," enjoy the New Totalitarianism. Stalin, Hitler, Amin, Ceauşescu, et al would be proud. Go kiss their headstones and don't spare the drool.<br />
<br />
Do you really want to see Grandma's and Grandpa's naughty bits? Think about that next time you leer at the x-ray machine, chumps.<br />
<br />
<em>How</em> much is this gonna cost us?<br />
<br />
If the airlines and TSA want to go one step further, there's always Naked Air. No clothes, no using the restroom, no carry-ons, just you in your birthday suit. Of course, they may need to lower their prices to get people on board. My only questions are, how nude will the pilots and flight attendants be? And will they hand out those hospital gowns or at least fig leaves as passengers deplane? All food for thought, except there will be no food on the prison, I mean plane.<br />
<br />
At times like these someone always brings up El Al and their incredible efficiency. Maybe we could learn from them instead of just blindly reacting.<br />
<br />
Wouldn't it be ironic if Big Pharma was in bed with the creators of those radiation-producing scanners to generate more patients? Any industry that profits from human misery is bound to come to a bad end, mark my words. Not accusing anyone, I'm just sayin'.<br />
<br />
Here's a thought: I wish you all a flight-free 2010! That's why we have trains, cars, phones, teleconferencing and the Internet. Gee, UAL, so sorry about the precipitous drop in your stock price!<br />
<br />
I'm outta here, in a virtual way.Psychic Accordionisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13085679250708685168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1597720097192339076.post-52368387132482079052009-12-19T13:37:00.000-08:002009-12-29T19:29:08.162-08:00A Gift from the Language Curmudgeon<p>There is a difference between <em>your</em> and <em>you’re</em>. When someone writes, “Your welcome,” it turns the adjective <em>welcome</em> into a noun. So, my welcome <em>what???</em><br /><br />Don’t get me started on <em>its</em> and <em>it’s</em>. <em>It’s</em> means it is. <em>Its</em> is a possessive pronoun. I see an awful lot of <em>it’s</em> where I should be seeing <em>its</em>. Writers, <strong>please</strong>, before you throw down a superfluous apostrophe, substitute <em>it is</em> for whatever you’re referring to. An example, “The bull lost it’s horns,” would translate as “The bull lost it is horns.” Heinous!<br /><br /><em>Their</em> does not mean the same thing as <em>there </em>or <em>they're</em>. <em>Their</em> is a possessive plural pronoun, as in “It’s their car, not yours.” <em>There</em> indicates a place. <em>They're </em>means "they are". If I had a nickel for every time I saw the word their instead of there or they're and vice versa, I’d be able to buy myself a ticket to Vegas and lose all the left over nickels <em>there</em> in one of <em>their</em> slot machines, then slam the machines until <em>they're </em>busted.<br /><br />How about doing some proofing so you don’t leave off the last “o” in “too” when you want to express excess? "To much corn?" No, that means “toward much corn”. Doesn’t make sense to me, either.<br /><br />The word <em>I</em> gets a lot of misuse. You hear “between you and I” all the time, but you should <strong>never</strong> hear it. The trick is to split it up, say: Between you and the light post. OK. Between I and the light post. Not OK.</p><p><strong>Parting present:</strong><br />A special dispensation is granted to non-politicians who mix up Slovakia and Slovenia. But if you want to impress people with your knowledge of countries having under 7 million inhabitants, Slovakia is the eastern third of what used to be Czechoslovakia. Slovenia was part of former Yugoslavia. In Slovakia you hear čardášes. In Slovenia, it’s waltzes and polkas. Ready for Slavic 2.0? All Slovaks are Slavs, but not all Slavs are Slovaks. Extra credit: the Baltics are Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania. The Balkans are Bulgaria, Romania, Serbia, Bosnia, Croatia, Montenegro, Macedonia and Albania. The Serbs are from Serbia, making them Balkan people. The Sorbs are the smallest ethnic minority in Europe, located in Eastern Germany. Therefore, the Sorbs are Central Europeans. That may have been Too Much Information, but it's my gift to you. Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukkah, Kick-*ss Kwanzaa, Super Solstice, G'bye, Peace.<br /></p>Psychic Accordionisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13085679250708685168noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1597720097192339076.post-79653375161466506772009-11-21T10:09:00.000-08:002009-12-29T19:29:21.554-08:00Suspicious AloysiusA couple days ago I received a phone call from a gentleman representing an alleged firefighters’ organization allegedly soliciting contributions to assist burned children. He went on and on, and I let him gab. He got to the part in his script about, “We don’t take credit cards over the phone but we’ll send you out a packet of information and you can make a $20 donation.”<br /><br />It’s fortunate they don’t take credit cards over the phone, because I wasn’t about to give him my credit card number over the phone anyway. I wasn’t that interested in giving him my address to send the [alleged] info packet either, although he probably already had it, it since he had my phone number.<br /><br />My vibes told me something wasn't quite right about the man's spiel. I informed him that although I was unable to make a monetary contribution at this time, I was willing to donate my time by going to the [alleged] hospital where these [alleged] burned children were and doing a half-hour accordion program for them.<br /><br />The guy got all confused. “Uh,” he stammered, “my supervisor doesn’t allow me to, uh, take that information, but there’s a number you can call…”<br /><br />“And that number is…?”<br /><br />Hastily: “I’ll call you right back with it.”<br /><br />I’m still waiting.Psychic Accordionisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13085679250708685168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1597720097192339076.post-77567702905602792312009-11-15T20:11:00.000-08:002009-12-29T19:29:51.201-08:00A typical Sunday night rant, in 3 raving partsDedicated to Bridget A., whose birthday is today.<br /><br /><strong>Part I: I’m Not Cultured, I Just Like Classical Music</strong><br /><br />When the local classical radio station plays an excerpt from Mozart’s opera <em>Don Giovanni</em>, it’s almost always <em>La ci darem la mano</em>, the duet between the Don and Zerlina. On Tuesday, November 10th, the station played all Mozart all day long. I wasn’t able to listen every minute, but within a couple hours they played that duet twice. Here are some excerpts from <em>Don</em> <em>Giovanni</em> that I prefer to the duet, and the number of times I heard <em>them</em> in the same two-hour time frame:<br />The Overture: ZERO<br /><em>Ah, fuggi il traditor</em>, Donna Elvira’s aria: ZERO<br /><em>Fin ch’han dal vino</em>, Don Giovanni’s aria: ZERO<br /><em>Il mio tesoro</em>, Don Ottavio’s aria: ZERO<br /><em>Madamina</em>…, Leporello’s “Catalogue” aria: ZERO<br /><em>Batti, batti</em>…, Zerlina’s aria: ZERO<br />The powers that be at a classical radio station ought to know that there's more to <em>Don Giovanni</em> than a 3-minute duet. Drop the needle somewhere else, please!<br /><br /><strong>Part II: Not Everybody Who Takes Public Transportation Is Deaf</strong><br /><br />Why do the announcements on the CTA and Metra have to be so stentorian? We’re not all deaf, we don’t all have iPod ear-buds in, and we’re sick of being bombarded with high-decibel warnings such as, “Please be considerate when talking on the phone and listening to electronic devices,” when we’re trying to read the paper. Earth to Clueless Noise Operator: Those announcements are louder than a boombox, which happens to be an electronic device.<br /><br /><strong>Part III: Can We Have A Break From:</strong><br /><br />Any mention of the Middle East and their problems. Either report something good coming out of there or shut up. We’re sick of hearing about people who get their jollies by hurting others.<br /><br />“10 Top Interviewing Tips”. When is the last time you or any other unemployed person ever got as far as an interview in this economy? Only one tip is valid: Be a friend of someone at a company that’s hiring.<br /><br />Blaming a peripheral matter for a larger problem, such as banning short-term condo rentals because a smart young man was killed outside of one, outlawing little plastic Ziploc bags because some numbskull put some dope in one, or doing away with beauty pageants because of the JonBenet Ramsey tragedy. Yeah, I know, the last one will never happen; too much money to be made. But it’s an example of what could ensue if the lawmakers don’t make like the Scarecrow and get a brain. Next up to be banned: anal suppositories because some stuffed shirt slipped on one while jaywalking across Michigan Avenue to his office. Get what I mean?Psychic Accordionisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13085679250708685168noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1597720097192339076.post-72620675699950541142009-11-06T15:42:00.000-08:002010-01-26T07:33:41.399-08:00Another Babyish Killer Strikes AgainWhat makes male gang members so delicate? Possibly the fact that many grew up without fathers, so there was nobody around to show them how to be men. Whatever the reason, and I’m sure it varies from delicate flower to delicate flower, it doesn’t make things any easier for those who are forced to deal with the consequences of their hurt feelings. I have ranted on this subject before, but with yet another senseless murder of a young, male, up-and-coming college student with an impressive reputation, it’s time to scream again. Francisco (Frankie) Valencia, a 21-year old senior at DePaul University, was struck down by the bullet of a gun wielded by a creampuff gang member who couldn’t deal with the fact that he had been asked to leave a party he crashed.<br />
<br />
This creampuff (who I am not naming because he doesn’t deserve the publicity) apparently never learned to handle his emotions. The reason he shot Valencia, as reported in the newspapers, is that he was upset because he and two friends had been kicked out of a party that they hadn’t been invited to in the first place. You can call it a “revenge” killing, but that isn’t what it is, really. It’s a crybaby killing. Gang members are notorious for these crybaby murders – “So-and-so disrespected me, so I offed him,” – and maybe it’s time that we sent them back to finishing school for thumb-suckers. In the mean time, here are a few pointers for these rod-toting sissies:<br />
<br />
1. Everyone has had the experience of not being invited to a party. The reasons vary from oversight to deliberate omission. Whatever the reason, most of us get on with our lives afterward. Next time you’re out shopping, buy yourself a thicker skin.<br />
<br />
2. Jesus said, “Turn the other cheek” for a good reason. It takes all the fun out of being an a**hole. Try it some time, just for laughs.<br />
<br />
3. Women outnumber men on this planet. If someone steals your girlfriend, don’t shoot him. Go get another girlfriend. Really, it isn’t that hard. And if your woman was ‘stolen’ she wasn’t that into you in the first place.<br />
<br />
4. Grow the hell up. Real men don’t need to settle scores by killing each other. That’s baby stuff. There are plenty of ways to get even with someone that don’t involve a lot of bloodshed, destroyed families and funerals.<br />
<br />
5. The gang is a tribal construct, but our world is global now, not tribal. It’s time to look beyond the tribe and see that it’s a big world out there. Whether you kill someone outside the tribe (acceptable in babyish societies) or within the tribe (taboo everywhere), you’re still a killer. That isn’t going to get you invited to a lot of parties (see #1).<br />
<br />
6. Anyone who is born into a fatherless, poverty-stricken family comes into life with a lot of courage. This means you. Harness the energy and courage you were born with. There are many ways to do this. Teach someone English or a foreign language. Pick up garbage in your neighborhood. Volunteer at a refugee center. Experiment with cooking. Read a book. Practice writing diatribes without using any swear words, and send them to the papers. Play sports. If nobody wants you on their team, there's always track or gymnastics.<br />
<br />
7. If you can’t shake off the urge to kill, join the military. At best, you’ll get some free schooling and food and it will make you more disciplined and responsible. At worst, it will make you a better killer. Society is ticked off enough with you to take that chance.<br />
<br />
You don’t have to remain a delicate pansy all your life. It’s up to you. Ultimately, the most valuable respect is self-respect.Psychic Accordionisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13085679250708685168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1597720097192339076.post-46460216867817645842009-10-06T11:17:00.000-07:002009-12-29T19:30:14.864-08:00SEX!!! Made you look.How about a little ranting about the David Letterman Affair(s)?<br /><br />The dude had some sex. Guys like sex. Women like sex. We all like sex. We also know that guys are inherently polygamous and women are inherently monogamous. So, to generalize, guys like sex with a variety of women, while women prefer to stick with one guy. Many guys grit their teeth and adhere to our society’s unrealistic expectations that they remain with one partner and others will do as they please, sexwise. This is why, even though women have been kept in positions of submission for much of history beginning with the Age of Aries (a couple thousand or so years before Christ), we are less pressured, sexwise. We aren’t as a rule driven, either by society or by our own hormones, to try to have sex with as many partners as possible.<br /><br />However, guys are. Society not only excuses men’s “conquests”, it encourages them. Different occupations are held to different standards. Catholic priests are supposed to be indifferent to sex. Sports stars are expected to join the screw-a-thon early on. We expect conservatives to publicly scorn sex while sneaking thrills in the pissoir or a seedy hotel room; liberals are subjected to the usual eye-rolls when they let it all hang out. Famous people are analyzed and reported on in detail when they are caught or suspected of having any kind of sex – even marital – but if your mailman is shagging a sheep on his day off, who cares.<br /><br />So, bearing all this in mind, do I judge David Letterman for having sex post-marriage with staff members? Can’t do it. For 99% of men, saying no thanks to an opportunity to have sex is like walking past a $50 bill lying on the sidewalk. We all know this, but for politeness’ sake we pretend we don’t, or that men can "change". Yes, there are exceptional partnered men who will turn down these opportunities because their brains kick in before the hormones make it through the bloodstream, but that's why we call them exceptional. It's not the favored scenario, but it might avoid a lot of stress and unnecessary drama if society accepted the fact that dudes are more alike than they are different. The mailman and Letterman both enjoy a roll in the hay.Psychic Accordionisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13085679250708685168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1597720097192339076.post-89680964111996669292009-09-17T19:07:00.000-07:002009-10-12T17:54:45.025-07:00A One-Note DayHave you ever noticed that there is a single theme running through your day? I had a day like that recently and the theme was my first instrument, the piano.<br /><br />Early in the morning, a pianist approached me as I was busking at the Evanston Farmers’ Market. He asked if I had ever heard any Janáček piano music played on the accordion. I could imagine his Lachian Dances on the accordion, but no, I had never heard them played that way. Then we got into a conversation about Lachian vs. Valachian vs. Bohemian music and I guess he was sufficiently convinced that I was knowledgeable about the subject because he bought one of my Czech/Slovak CDs, even after I warned him that the music on it was nothing like Janáček’s.<br /><br />After I was done playing at the market, I drove to Chicago's north side Lakewood-Balmoral neighborhood to cruise their yard sales. There is a program on our local classical station called <em>Introductions,</em> which I rarely listen to. I don't like it. But on this particular day I turned it on and left it on. I was rewarded with a workmanship-like student's rendition of Chopin's Ballade in A-flat, op. 47. For a Chopin junkie, this was like finding a wallet stuffed with bills sans ID on the sidewalk. Chopin wrote four Ballades: G-minor, op. 23; F-major, op. 38; the A-flat, op. 47 and F-minor, op. 52. Of the four, the A-flat is least often played, but it is my favorite (although one could argue that the F-minor is a more masterful composition).<br /><br />Later on at a yard sale, I spied a 1959 program book from one of Artur Rubinstein’s concerts. He was my childhood hero, a Polish pianist who played Chopin with grace, sensitivity and technical prowess, but without mawkish sentimentality. It was only $1 so I grabbed it.<br /><br />I mentioned that I was a Chopin junkie, which was true when I was a kid. In high school I discovered Dvořák, Rimsky-Korsakoff, Poulenc, Mozart, Debussy, and in college, the greatest of them all, Johann Sebastian Bach. But for about five years, it was all Chopin, all the time. So I was thrilled to find a recent DVD about Chopin, called <em>Pragnienie miłości</em> (Desire for Love) at another yard sale. I considered it overpriced at $3, but I bought it anyway. For those not familiar with classical music, Chopin composed almost exclusively for the piano.<br /><br />When I got home, I watched the movie. It was maudlin, and, if I were to give it a musical designation, it would be <em>Andantino sappioso con molto saccharino</em>. I detest cheap sentiment and the movie had it, in spades. But there was one scene that made me sit up, pump my fist and yell, “Yessssss!” During this scene, Chopin hears his valet Jan playing an *oberek on his fiddle. He immediately asks Jan to play it over, and he notates it as Jan plays. I’ve done that! I’ve been there! The most frustrating thing is hearing a great tune but not having either staff paper or a recording device handy. I can remember hurriedly scribbling five lines on a piece of scrap paper so I could take dictation on a song someone was singing. During the scene Chopin expands the little oberek on the piano and it morphs into his Mazurka in D major, op. 33 no. 1.<br /><br />My accordion replaced the piano long ago but this day with its piano theme reminded me that if I hadn’t started playing the piano when I was five, I probably wouldn’t have developed the skills to learn to play the accordion in six months. Have any of you ever had a day like that?<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">*An oberek is a lively Polish dance in 3/8 time.</span>Psychic Accordionisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13085679250708685168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1597720097192339076.post-21743879976435126042009-09-06T16:59:00.000-07:002009-12-29T19:30:30.360-08:00A Tollway AdventureI admit it: I can be a very annoying person. For the reader’s edification, I will now dissect one particularly irksome aspect of my personality and trace an infuriating habit back to its source.<br /><br />I refuse to buy an I-pass. For those of you who live outside Illinois, an I-pass is a transponder which allows you to drive on the tollway without stopping. In order to buy an I-pass, you have to submit your credit card number so funds can be charged to it, and you also have to give them your driver’s license number. The Cynic-At-Large smelled a burgeoning surveillance tactic, so I said no thanks. They didn't have I-passes when the following incident occured, and if it had not happened I may not have awakened my Inner Cynic in the first place and bought the darn I-pass.<br /><br />Several years ago, as I was stopped at an automatic toll booth I threw in the required amount of money but the gate wouldn’t rise, even when I treated the receptacle to a few extra, undeserved coins. I had to back up, go to a manned booth two lanes over and explain to the agent that I put my money in but it wasn’t registering and the gate stayed down. The amount at the time was $.50. The agent all but accused me of lying, saying, “How do I know you put the money in? You can't prove it.”<br /><br />Riiiiiiiight.<br /><br />Like I was going to go to all that trouble for 50 cents. On the other hand, I was stuck and I needed to get where I was going before Alzheimer’s set in.<br /><br />So I gave the jerk five dimes and demanded a receipt.<br /><br />Now when I drive on the tollway, I always go to a manned booth, pay my tolls in nickels and dimes, and ask for a receipt, just in case The Man isn't absolutely positive I paid.<br /><br />Just wanted to explain why you're stuck behind my car on the tollway. Now you know.Psychic Accordionisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13085679250708685168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1597720097192339076.post-73554757577938970162009-08-20T13:53:00.000-07:002009-08-21T07:38:06.814-07:00Pay it Forward!<em>Pay it Forward</em>. It’s the title of a forgettable movie starring an irritating kid whom the studio tried to make precious and cute, and failed. However, the fact that I couldn’t sit through the entire film in no way negates the message. The idea of “pay it forward” is valid and I was its recipient, then donor. Here’s the story.<br /><br />A couple weeks ago I stopped in at one of my favorite second-hand stores, Someone’s Treasure at 5604 W. Belmont Ave. in Chicago. If you want to call them to ask if they have that chartreuse sweater or black bowler hat you’ve been searching for, their phone number is 773-481-5911. They’re a fairly new business, opened in the last couple years or so. The place is neatly arranged, items are tastefully displayed and everything is immaculate. The place is filled with good vibes. The owners are the kind of people you would hope will succeed: intelligent, amiable and helpful.<br /><br />I found a beautiful green vase decorated with gold trim and pink ceramic flowers. It matches some glassware that I bought years ago in Slovakia. Someone's Treasure was having a 30% off sale, and that vase, easily worth $50, was marked at $3.85 (plus Chicago's hideous 10.25% sales tax). I grabbed it. As I paid, I was digging through my change looking for a quarter. The woman behind me slapped a quarter on the counter. “Here.” The Cynic At Large joked with a smile, “You must really want me out of here!” “No,” replied the kind lady, “pay it forward.”<br /><br />Wow!<br /><br />The opportunity arose a week later. A loyal patron of the restaurant I play at, Klas in Cicero, had planned to have his birthday celebration there on the following Sunday. He asked if I would be playing that day and I said no, I wasn’t scheduled. He was obviously disappointed, but after he left I began thinking about “paying it forward.” I checked my calendar for the date and time of his party; I had nothing else to do that evening except watch The Simpsons.<br /><br />Uh-oh.<br /><br />However, when I weighed the pros for the party: nice guy, good customer, always thanks me for playing his favorite tunes; against the con: missing two Simpsons episodes I had already seen, Klas won the battle. Without mentioning it to anyone but the manager, I scheduled myself to play for the party. Even though it was not to be a paid performance (like all professional musicians I charge a fee to play for parties), in the long run it wouldn’t make me or break me to "pay it forward" this one time.<br /><br />I showed up about 10 minutes before the party and surprised the gentleman with “Happy Birthday” as he and his family walked in. I played all his favorite songs and got plenty of applause. But the cherry on top of the soda was that somebody tipped me a C-note!<br /><br />Swisssshhhhh!<br /><br />So, did "pay it forward" ultimately result in a big tip? Not exactly. The idea behind "pay it forward" is that someone <strong>knows</strong> you did something nice, so <strong>they</strong> do something nice and it becomes a domino effect of good deeds. Sort of like a chain e-mail, but without the accompanying emotions of fear and greed. If I hadn’t been inspired by the nice lady who parted with that quarter out of her own kindness, I may not have thought of volunteering to play for the party. However, the diners at the party didn't <strong>know</strong> that I was volunteering; for all they knew I was being paid by the restaurant. So the tip itself was really more an example of "what comes around, goes around" (see my earlier post about the Silver Certificate: <a href="http://psychicaccordionist.blogspot.com/2009/04/what-goes-aound.html">http://psychicaccordionist.blogspot.com/2009/04/what-goes-aound.html</a>). For a good deed to continue the "pay it forward" chain, someone would have to be aware that it was a gift.<br /><br />Whatever. I'm still glad I stopped in at Someone's Treasure. At the least, I got a valuable piece of glassware, a good story to tell, and I took advantage of the opportunity to "pay it forward" - albeit semi-anonymously - myself.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.blogger.com/Silver"></a>Psychic Accordionisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13085679250708685168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1597720097192339076.post-42914023020578825002009-08-12T20:24:00.000-07:002009-12-29T19:30:47.824-08:00Road Rage on the Lovely North SideOne forum where annoyed drivers, pedestrians and bikers can kvetch with impunity is Platewire (<a href="http://www.platewire.com/">http://www.platewire.com/</a>). I registered with them a couple years ago so I could vent about the behemoth in the SUV who road-raged me on Berteau Street when I dared bike the right way down a one-way street rather than taking a wider (but wrong-way) side street, or sissying along the sidewalk. That’s all ancient history and that huge blob with the purple face and the big pulsating vein in his neck is probably all dead and buried by now. There was another incident this morning so I crashed their site again and hastily put it on. They warned us posters that we had only 20 minutes to come up with our masterpieces, otherwise we’d have to log in again.<br /><br />Not wanting to have to remember my password (“Is it ‘swordfish’?”) a second time, I decided to cover my bases by posting an additional and twice as sizzling rant right here.<br /><br />It was 7:44 a.m. and I had just crossed Keeler Avenue northbound at Irving Park Road. It’s not a nice intersection. This is where the Kennedy Expressway feeder ramp is, and if you don’t mind your P’s and Q’s you could end up an ex-human. Getting across Irving and past the diagonal lane that feeds into Keeler just north of Irving is cause to make sure you’re wearing a helmet and your will is up to date.<br /><br />So here I am, carefully making my way down a short but nasty stretch of Keeler, and there, right in the diagonal, blocking my access to safely cross the street was Mister X61 9421. Normally I would not post the license plate of an offender, but he was committing – in my opinion – the Number One Sin of the road. He. Was. On. A. Hand. Held. Cell. Phone. While driving. At a dangerous intersection. He was so engrossed in his call he didn’t notice that there were about three feet of space behind him into which he could have safely backed up, thus allowing me more than the sliver of bumpy road, broken glass and pigeon droppings in which to maneuver my bike between him and the passing cars on Keeler.<br /><br />I got off my bike and slowly walked it right in front of him. I don’t think he noticed me giving him a pointed look, then giving his license plate a pointed look. Then back to him, then again peering at his license plate and writing in a notebook with a very serious expression on my face.<br /><br />So, Mister X61 9421, what was so gosh-darned important? What were you blabbing about on that phone of yours before 8 a.m.? Lindsay Lohan’s latest romance? Joan vs. Bette? Boxers or briefs? Were you using that phone as an emotional outlet when you should have been paying attention to the road? I’ll tell you what, Mister X61 9421, Joan vs. Bette or that can’t-wait business deal just doesn’t seem so important when some kid’s body is flying up against your windshield.Psychic Accordionisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13085679250708685168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1597720097192339076.post-92009182888283840142009-07-21T06:37:00.000-07:002009-12-29T19:31:01.306-08:00Meters in a Strip Mall? Tres Chic!I recently observed that parking meters have been installed in a strip mall in Chicago. The location: the south side of Lawrence Avenue at Oakley. This mall is home to a video store, a pizza joint, a Bosnian restaurant, a convenience store and a nail salon along with a couple other small establishments. A dollar store used to anchor the place, but it’s gone now. There’s a huge “For Rent” sign that has “DESPERATE” written all over it.<br /><br />Gee, ya think drivers are going to patronize those businesses if they have to fork over a quarter for every 15 minutes? What about those talons that aren’t quite dry when the meter runs out? Are your claws worth a $50 ticket? That’s $10 a nail, not counting fees and tips. I don’t know, I’d rather paint my nails myself or get them done someplace I can walk or bike to.<br /><br />The point of strip malls is that sure, they’re ugly, but they’re convenient. You eat lunch at the Bosnian restaurant, then stop in next door for a manicure. Then you notice the video store, and you just gotta have the latest version of <em>Jackass</em>, so you go and spend a few bucks there. All of this commerce supposedly takes place while you’re <strong><em>not</em></strong> obsessing about how many seconds are left on your parking meter.<br /><br />BTW, here's an excellent blog you should visit to get valuable info on this subject: <a href="http://theexpiredmeter.com/">http://theexpiredmeter.com/</a><br /><br />If you live within walking distance, a strip mall is just another blight on your ’hood. At least it’s not as offensive as gang tags on light poles and overflowing garbage cans. But if you come from some distance away and have to drive, you take a look at those meters and move on. Nothing to see here, folks.Psychic Accordionisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13085679250708685168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1597720097192339076.post-53512316738107518192009-06-30T19:29:00.000-07:002009-12-29T19:31:15.628-08:00Don't...Park...HERE!Recently the rates on Chicago’s parking meters were jacked up and new meters were installed where previously there had been none. Most citizens are not pleased with this exciting new development and some of the more cynical residents of this great city suspect that there must be secret plans to funnel the anticipated increased revenue into an Olympics-related slush fund.<br /><br />Over the last 20 years, finding free, legal parking in Chicago has gradually become akin to locating a website without pop-up ads. Since permit parking zones were first instituted decades ago, they have become a cancer, metastasizing throughout Chicago's neighborhoods. This writer has no issue with such zones, as long as 1) there is a preponderance of senior citizens and/or handicapped individuals who need to park close to their homes and 2) more than three quarters of the housing stock is apartment buildings without garages. However, you can now find permit parking on streets occupied by mainly single-family homes <em>with</em> garages. Don’t whine that restricted parking is needed because there’s shopping nearby, or a train station, or a Dairy Queen. These permit parking zones are <strong><em>not</em></strong> necessary. The aldermen simper, “But more than 50% of our residents want them.” Aldermen – and women – get a clue. If more than 50% of your children asked to be served ice cream for breakfast, lunch, dinner and dessert, would you cede to their wishes? Sometimes you have to be smarter than your constituents and this is one of those times. Using garages for the purpose for which they were originally designed will solve the problem of residents not being able to find parking. Not meaning to insinuate that many garages are so full of crap that getting a car in there is harder than pulling a camel through the eye of a needle, of course.<br /><br />That is my rant about permit parking, and it may be recycled later in this blog. For now, I would like to offer a nightmarish scenario as to where Chicago seems to be headed, getting-around-wise.<br /><br />Now that LAZ Parking has done such a brilliant job of taking over our parking meters, let’s figure out some other ways to inconvenience and stealth-tax our drivers. How about installing 24-hour meters on the residential side streets, in the alleys and on the shoulders of the expressways. Those neighborhoods that are too blighted to merit meters (and where the installers would likely get mugged trying) can be permit parking only. Make sure that there is a hefty fee for the yearly – make that monthly – permit that the residents can’t afford.<br /><br />Now that all streets are either metered or permit, let’s tackle the private garages. To enter his or her garage, an owner will be required to deposit a $10 bill, which will then be whisked into a secret Olympics 2016 fund. To exit the garage, come up with another $10. Stopping with drivers is for sissies. To make sure as many people are inconvenienced as possible, slash service on the CTA. Cut bus routes and hours of operation, and don’t forget to raise fares. To obtain one of those convenient “Chicago Cards”, require citizens to submit their Social Security Numbers and all bank/brokerage/credit card account info. Then eliminate payment by cash or regular fare card.<br /><br />Let’s start licensing bike riders. The fees from all those licenses will help fund a new Olympic event, the “pothole slalom” and before you can say “Lance Armstrong” it’ll cost you to get around by bike. Finally, don’t spare the pedestrians. Set up a toll booth at every intersection. To cross any street, charge a toll of $5 per leg. To show that this is really a compassionate city, give any amputees a 5% discount, but make it exact change only, otherwise no deal.<br /><br />If considering the above makes you crave copious quantities of alcohol, look on the bright side. Thousands of jobs in surveillance, security and law enforcement will be created. And won't it impress the Olympic Committee to be able to claim that our unemployment rate has gone from 10% to less than 3%?Psychic Accordionisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13085679250708685168noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1597720097192339076.post-85178039052160564422009-06-12T08:56:00.000-07:002009-12-29T19:32:05.670-08:00Beccah, Ditch That H!I thoroughly enjoyed reading the story in today’s Chicago Tribune about the young lady from Mokena, Illinois, Beccah Beushausen, who blogged her way to fame on a mostly made-up story about being pregnant with a terminally ill child who died soon after birth. I never had the pleasure of reading her blog and today was the first I heard of it. It was followed by thousands of pro-lifers eager for affirmation of their beliefs, and it drives home an important point: don’t believe everything you read, even if it agrees with you! That goes for us pro-choicers too.<br /><br />Trust, but verify.<br /><br />Having said that, I have to hand it to her. She is apparently a terrific writer who knows how to push emotional buttons. That is one thing I have never been able to do. I can tell a story, but I can’t sap it up and any excess emotion gets tempered with a little comedy thrown in. I also have a very hard time making up stuff. You could say that I have a dearth of imagination when it comes to generating sentiment. Go back and read the story “A Tale of Two Babies” earlier in this blog. Every fact in that story was corroborated, verified and approved by the mothers of the babies before I hit that “publish” button.<br /><br />Beccah (and if I were her, I’d get rid of that superfluous <em>h</em> at the end of her name, since in Jewish tradition H is the childbearing letter and she misused it, whether she’s Jewish or not) has some choices. She can channel all that writing talent into cranking out a couple novels. That’s a positive use of her gift. Or she can appear on Oprah and The View and apologize over and over, telling, re-telling and crystalizing her sad story. Not so positive. Of course, the visual appearances would be more lucrative and less hard work. And money, especially easy money, is one thing we can all use.<br /><br />Or she can fade into oblivion, having experienced her proverbial 15 minutes of shame.Psychic Accordionisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13085679250708685168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1597720097192339076.post-66102635608200138752009-06-07T07:33:00.000-07:002009-12-29T19:31:51.563-08:00Take My Money...Please!I’m starting to look forward to the next telemarketer who asks me for money or the next business that tries to push unwanted services in my direction. Since I got rid of Caller ID, I’ve been picking up the phone more often. If it rings between 6 and 9 p.m. there’s a good chance it’s a charity, arts organization or semi-legitimate business hoping to make a hole in my pocket.<br /><br />Charities and arts organizations aren’t too bad and I would consider sending them a few bucks if I had their assurance that my name and phone number wouldn’t end up on the mailing and calling lists of every other worthy cause in the nation. And in fact, I donate regularly to Purple Hearts and am pretty much a soft touch for anything veteran-related, especially when it involves contributing goods instead of money.<br /><br />However…<br /><br />I am a Suspicious Aloysius when it comes to people trying to sell me services I don’t need or trying to guilt me into parting with my money. Some of the most aggressive telemarketers are those folks who call on behalf of police functions. When I politely informed the caller that I donated through my employment and my church and had made all my donations for the year, he questioned me. “You don’t support law enforcement?” I roared back with the equivalent of “I’ll enforce YOU!” and asked for his name and his supervisor’s name. He backed off, a wounded and chastened cur slinking off into telespace, phone between his legs.<br /><br />Another opportunity arose the other day when I contacted a tech provider to get some over-the-phone help. The assistant I got was more interested in selling me services I didn’t want or need than actually helping me to solve the problem. I politely refused one such service, repeating at least three times that I didn’t have the budget for it. But if I had the presence of mind, the conversation would have gone more like this:<br /><br />Tech Dude: This service is very inexpensive, it’s less than $11 a month!<br /><br />Me: Sorry, but it’s not in my budget.<br /><br />Tech Dude: For only $10.95 a month you can have this service!<br /><br />Me: You wanna repeat my last sentence?<br /><br />Tech Dude: But it’s only $10.95 a month! That’s less than a tank of gas!<br /><br />Me: Since you think it’s so necessary that I have this service and you feel it’s so inexpensive, am I to infer that <strong><em>you</em></strong> are willing to personally pay for it so that <strong><em>I</em></strong> can have it?<br /><br />Tech Dude: [silence]<br /><br />And that is what the next phone-beggar will get from me. If it’s that important to you that I buy your service or make a donation for which I have no budget, I will turn the tables and ask <strong><em>you</em></strong> for the money.<br /><br />Bring it on.Psychic Accordionisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13085679250708685168noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1597720097192339076.post-12163982781806725252009-05-30T07:15:00.000-07:002009-05-30T08:00:26.342-07:00Diving Into a Pool of EstrogenPssst, nice lonely straight guys! Want to know where to meet some wimmin? That’s right, I wrote <em>wimmin</em>. I can tell you where to find them, but you’ll have to go with an open mind. Before you bail out, I should tell you that these <em>wimmin</em> are for the most part intelligent, good-looking, ethical and financially secure!<br /><br />Sonia Choquette, a world-famous author, teacher and intuitive, also known as a psychic, is one of today’s most dynamic leaders, guiding humanity to operate from a perspective of inclusion rather than exclusion, love rather than fear, and knowledge rather than ignorance. I have read and re-read all 14 of her books and I have taken classes with her over the past 10 years. Her techniques and workshops are in demand all over the planet because they <em>work</em>. I can testify. Thanks to my studies with Sonia I have been able to forgive people I had previously held grudges against, attract miracles such as a trip to Romania, buy a condo, and then sell it at a profit to buy a house. See her website here, <a href="http://www.trustyourvibes.com/">http://www.trustyourvibes.com/</a>.<br /><br />Whenever I attend one of her events I accurately forecast one thing about it without any psychic skills: the ratio of females to males will be about 15 to 1. The ratio of females to <em>straight</em> males is more like 25 to 1. These events are always sold out. They packed us in like sardines at the one I was at last night, 115 people in a room designed to comfortably hold about 50. And, as I predicted, there were about seven guys in the room. I think one of them was a movie star. The claustrophobic atmosphere faded as soon as Sonia started speaking. She discussed scientific phenomena as she gave us instructions on how to honor our spirits and support the six-sensory life. She spoke of courage, mental clarity, wisdom and the importance of allowing one’s self to play the fool. At the end we were all milling around talking excitedly to one another, whether we had been introduced or not. It would have been the perfect opportunity to meet a potential sweetheart, because there were no pokers up anybody’s butts!<br /><br />Nice guys, I know there are many on-line sites where you can search for a girlfriend while wearing holey sweats, comfortably scratching under your arms, picking your nose, drinking a beer and belching noisily. However, for adventurous dudes, I suggest the physical approach. Grit your teeth, open your mind, put on your bright red underwear and drag your carcass to one of Sonia’s events. Trust me, the competition will be sparse. If you hose yourself off, put on some clean clothes, maybe a little after-shave, and keep your eyes and heart open you have a good chance of being the Alpha Male in the room!Psychic Accordionisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13085679250708685168noreply@blogger.com0