Why 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 something ($10? $20? $50?) to and decided not to. The reason: I end up on the organization’s mailing list and can’t get off.

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 pestering 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.

In all fairness, there is one organization I donate to that has never sold my name to another charity and for that reason I will mention them here by name: it’s the Slovak Heritage and Folklore Society. 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.

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!

I can’t believe I’m the first person who thought of this.

Parting Shot of 2009

The final gift of 2009 is...FULL BODY SCANNERS AT AIRPORTS! Here are a few comments on that lovely new development.

For those who would say, "Anything 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.

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.

How much is this gonna cost us?

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.

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.

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'.

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!

I'm outta here, in a virtual way.

A Gift from the Language Curmudgeon

There is a difference between your and you’re. When someone writes, “Your welcome,” it turns the adjective welcome into a noun. So, my welcome what???

Don’t get me started on its and it’s. It’s means it is. Its is a possessive pronoun. I see an awful lot of it’s where I should be seeing its. Writers, please, before you throw down a superfluous apostrophe, substitute it is for whatever you’re referring to. An example, “The bull lost it’s horns,” would translate as “The bull lost it is horns.” Heinous!

Their does not mean the same thing as there or they're. Their is a possessive plural pronoun, as in “It’s their car, not yours.” There indicates a place. They're 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 there in one of their slot machines, then slam the machines until they're busted.

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.

The word I gets a lot of misuse. You hear “between you and I” all the time, but you should never 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.

Parting present:
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.

Suspicious Aloysius

A 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.”

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.

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.

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…”

“And that number is…?”

Hastily: “I’ll call you right back with it.”

I’m still waiting.

A typical Sunday night rant, in 3 raving parts

Dedicated to Bridget A., whose birthday is today.

Part I: I’m Not Cultured, I Just Like Classical Music

When the local classical radio station plays an excerpt from Mozart’s opera Don Giovanni, it’s almost always La ci darem la mano, 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 Don Giovanni that I prefer to the duet, and the number of times I heard them in the same two-hour time frame:
The Overture: ZERO
Ah, fuggi il traditor, Donna Elvira’s aria: ZERO
Fin ch’han dal vino, Don Giovanni’s aria: ZERO
Il mio tesoro, Don Ottavio’s aria: ZERO
Madamina…, Leporello’s “Catalogue” aria: ZERO
Batti, batti…, Zerlina’s aria: ZERO
The powers that be at a classical radio station ought to know that there's more to Don Giovanni than a 3-minute duet. Drop the needle somewhere else, please!

Part II: Not Everybody Who Takes Public Transportation Is Deaf

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.

Part III: Can We Have A Break From:

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.

“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.

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?

Another Babyish Killer Strikes Again

What 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.

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:

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.

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.

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.

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.

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).

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.

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.

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.

SEX!!! Made you look.

How about a little ranting about the David Letterman Affair(s)?

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.

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.

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.