Blog number 396 **** 13 June 2009
In the entry before this one I elucidated the simple but effective ways my son, pseudonymed Lamont Cranston for reasons not germane to this issue, if issue there be, which I doubt, but one never knows - well sometimes one knows, but not at this time. Maybe later? Anyhow, the simple but effective ways my son and I designed to get rid of dumped automobiles by people too lazy or uncaring to dispose of their own possessions instead of foisting the job upon innocent and unsuspecting homo sapiens - and I mean that in a good way.
The aforementioned Lamont read that Blog entry, and since he moved and I moved and now we live in different states, he got me up to date by e-mail on that disposal method.
And I quote, "I used that free car trick last year on an abandoned car. Soon people started going thru it, left the doors open, then a patrol car noticed it and...tow city!
Works like a charm. But a real charm not [like] a rabbit's foot or bogus charm."
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
DON AND SON'S USED CAR LOT
Blog number 395 **** 08 June 2009
When we lived in downtown Sacramento in a two flat building, I used to go downstairs to my son Kavi's - Nee Daryl, flat and we brainstormed, drew and wrote our comic book. One night we got to talking about the automobile that somebody left in front of our house. It had been there a couple of weeks. Kavi suggested that we put a sign on the windshield saying, "Free Car." So we did.
The next day I was sitting on the front porch working on the comic when this young Hispanic came up the stairs and asked if that car was really free. I told him the story - that we were tired of seeing it there and as a joke we put that sign up. He asked if I cared if he took the car. "Hell no," I said. "take away."
The next day I noticed several Hispanics moving around the car. I saw them bring a battery, and soon they had the car running and off they went."Good show, " I thought.
A few days later, somebody else dumped a car there and after two or three days, we put another "Free car" sign on the windshield and the next day it was gone.
A few days later, a nice Cadillac was left. I put the sign up and the next day I saw a guy looking it over and later him and a patrol car were there. Then a tow truck. And then the Cadillac was towed off.
Damn! This works!
A few days later what I took to be a Volkswagen was left there, with a sign saying to please not have the car towed, as it was to be given to a non-profit business. I thought, well, if you are giving it away, I'll help. I put the sign up.
Next day I was at Weatherstone's Coffee Shop and Ray Rill came up to me and asked if that was really a free Porsche in front of my house. I said I thought it was a Volkswagen. He said, "No, it's a Porsche and I would sure like to have it." So I told him the story about it starting as a joke and how well it worked, so I kept doing it. He didn't say any more, so I left and stated walking down the street. I happened to look back and he was still standing in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at me. He seems stunned, like he didn't know what to make of the whole thing.
When we lived in downtown Sacramento in a two flat building, I used to go downstairs to my son Kavi's - Nee Daryl, flat and we brainstormed, drew and wrote our comic book. One night we got to talking about the automobile that somebody left in front of our house. It had been there a couple of weeks. Kavi suggested that we put a sign on the windshield saying, "Free Car." So we did.
The next day I was sitting on the front porch working on the comic when this young Hispanic came up the stairs and asked if that car was really free. I told him the story - that we were tired of seeing it there and as a joke we put that sign up. He asked if I cared if he took the car. "Hell no," I said. "take away."
The next day I noticed several Hispanics moving around the car. I saw them bring a battery, and soon they had the car running and off they went."Good show, " I thought.
A few days later, somebody else dumped a car there and after two or three days, we put another "Free car" sign on the windshield and the next day it was gone.
A few days later, a nice Cadillac was left. I put the sign up and the next day I saw a guy looking it over and later him and a patrol car were there. Then a tow truck. And then the Cadillac was towed off.
Damn! This works!
A few days later what I took to be a Volkswagen was left there, with a sign saying to please not have the car towed, as it was to be given to a non-profit business. I thought, well, if you are giving it away, I'll help. I put the sign up.
Next day I was at Weatherstone's Coffee Shop and Ray Rill came up to me and asked if that was really a free Porsche in front of my house. I said I thought it was a Volkswagen. He said, "No, it's a Porsche and I would sure like to have it." So I told him the story about it starting as a joke and how well it worked, so I kept doing it. He didn't say any more, so I left and stated walking down the street. I happened to look back and he was still standing in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at me. He seems stunned, like he didn't know what to make of the whole thing.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
MY OWN PRIVATE STALKER
Blog number 394 **** 06 June 2009
Yesterday I got to thinking again about this Oriental man following me around downtown Sacramento a few years ago. Let me tell you the story and then I'll explain what about it that bothered me and then I will tell you how I worked it out. That will be a lot of fun for you, yes?
I was walking around downtown Sacramento like I did every day, watching people, mostly. I noticed out of the corner of my eye, this Oriental guy about thirty or so years of age, looked like a businessman on his lunch hour, following me. I pretended that I didn't notice him, but I went into Starbucks and it was crowded, so I turn around to leave and locked eyes with the guy as he was coming in the door. That was the last I saw of him.
What made me curious was, it seemed like, since I saw him looking at me, I must have deduced that he was following me. Is that why he stopped? That didn't sound right. I puzzled over that for years and today when the memory came up again, I told my "nameless" wife about it, and realized that now he would know that I would know of him if I saw him again. THAT'S why he stopped. Case solved.
I should have told what's-her-name about it years ago and then I would have carried one less mystery around with me. Those things get heavy after awhile.
Yesterday I got to thinking again about this Oriental man following me around downtown Sacramento a few years ago. Let me tell you the story and then I'll explain what about it that bothered me and then I will tell you how I worked it out. That will be a lot of fun for you, yes?
I was walking around downtown Sacramento like I did every day, watching people, mostly. I noticed out of the corner of my eye, this Oriental guy about thirty or so years of age, looked like a businessman on his lunch hour, following me. I pretended that I didn't notice him, but I went into Starbucks and it was crowded, so I turn around to leave and locked eyes with the guy as he was coming in the door. That was the last I saw of him.
What made me curious was, it seemed like, since I saw him looking at me, I must have deduced that he was following me. Is that why he stopped? That didn't sound right. I puzzled over that for years and today when the memory came up again, I told my "nameless" wife about it, and realized that now he would know that I would know of him if I saw him again. THAT'S why he stopped. Case solved.
I should have told what's-her-name about it years ago and then I would have carried one less mystery around with me. Those things get heavy after awhile.
LIFE IN THE OTHER UNIVERSE
Blog number 392 **** 06 June 2009
I'm reading this most fascinating autobiography of promoter, agent, manager, of movies, movie stars, music artists and musicals, theatre, and sports, friend and confidant of such notables as Frank Sinatra, Elvis, John Denver, Robert Altman, et al., Jerry Weintraub.
The title of the book is, "When I Stop Talking, You'll Know I'm Dead."
Jerry tells of the trials and tribulations of those whom most of us envy. He said that they are usually very paranoid and worried people. They worry about whether they are still employable, and for how long. They don't work for a salary, they do piece work. If they don't produce, they don't get paid, and it is up to others whether or not they get work where they can produce.
Jerry once got a call from his assistant that John Denver, who was working in Europe, was going to fire Jerry.
Jerry went to Europe to talk to John. John told him that he was going to have to fire him. Jerry asked why. John says that nothing was going right. The hotels stink, the food is no good, the venues are awful, the sound systems are terrible, the band is furious. Nothing is right.
Jerry said, "look, I just got off a flight. Let me get some rest and then we'll talk."
So later they went to dinner. When they sat down, Jerry told John, "Look. Before we eat, I want you to know I've taken care of the problem."
"How?"
"I fired Ferguson."
"Who's Ferguson?"
"Well, Ferguson was in charge of the hotels, the venues, the food, the sound system, all that. Now that he's been fired, I think you will see a big difference."
While they are eating, Jerry is downcast, brooding. John notices and asks him what's wrong."I'm feeling bad about Ferguson. He screwed up, but he's not a bad guy. And now he has no salary and he won't get his bonus and it's right before Christmas. For godsakes, John, Ferguson has a family!"
They sit in silence for a bit and finally John says, "Darn it. I feel bad about Ferguson too."
Time goes by and Jerry says, "I got an idea. Instead of firing him, let's move him into another part of the business, away from people."
"Hide him you mean?"
"Yeah. Hide him."
There was really nothing wrong with the hotels, the food, the venue. John Denver had just gotten himself worked up and needed to stand up for himself. Jerry knew John was also very compassionate and would eventually feel bad about firing Ferguson, "which was why we hired him back."
The next night, on the way back from the show, Jerry asked how things were going. "How was the venue, how was the sound?"
"Oh, much better," John said. "I could tell the difference right away. I'm glad we could fix it without firing Ferguson."
Of course, there was no Ferguson.
*****************
Jerry asks, "Can the child of a rich man have the same ambition as a kid from the Bronx?"
One evening, one of Jerry's daughters, having just flown on a commercial plane for the first time in her life, called him in a panic. "My God," she said, "the way they jam you in, and make you sit there, in one seat, it's like a prison!"
I'm reading this most fascinating autobiography of promoter, agent, manager, of movies, movie stars, music artists and musicals, theatre, and sports, friend and confidant of such notables as Frank Sinatra, Elvis, John Denver, Robert Altman, et al., Jerry Weintraub.
The title of the book is, "When I Stop Talking, You'll Know I'm Dead."
Jerry tells of the trials and tribulations of those whom most of us envy. He said that they are usually very paranoid and worried people. They worry about whether they are still employable, and for how long. They don't work for a salary, they do piece work. If they don't produce, they don't get paid, and it is up to others whether or not they get work where they can produce.
Jerry once got a call from his assistant that John Denver, who was working in Europe, was going to fire Jerry.
Jerry went to Europe to talk to John. John told him that he was going to have to fire him. Jerry asked why. John says that nothing was going right. The hotels stink, the food is no good, the venues are awful, the sound systems are terrible, the band is furious. Nothing is right.
Jerry said, "look, I just got off a flight. Let me get some rest and then we'll talk."
So later they went to dinner. When they sat down, Jerry told John, "Look. Before we eat, I want you to know I've taken care of the problem."
"How?"
"I fired Ferguson."
"Who's Ferguson?"
"Well, Ferguson was in charge of the hotels, the venues, the food, the sound system, all that. Now that he's been fired, I think you will see a big difference."
While they are eating, Jerry is downcast, brooding. John notices and asks him what's wrong."I'm feeling bad about Ferguson. He screwed up, but he's not a bad guy. And now he has no salary and he won't get his bonus and it's right before Christmas. For godsakes, John, Ferguson has a family!"
They sit in silence for a bit and finally John says, "Darn it. I feel bad about Ferguson too."
Time goes by and Jerry says, "I got an idea. Instead of firing him, let's move him into another part of the business, away from people."
"Hide him you mean?"
"Yeah. Hide him."
There was really nothing wrong with the hotels, the food, the venue. John Denver had just gotten himself worked up and needed to stand up for himself. Jerry knew John was also very compassionate and would eventually feel bad about firing Ferguson, "which was why we hired him back."
The next night, on the way back from the show, Jerry asked how things were going. "How was the venue, how was the sound?"
"Oh, much better," John said. "I could tell the difference right away. I'm glad we could fix it without firing Ferguson."
Of course, there was no Ferguson.
*****************
Jerry asks, "Can the child of a rich man have the same ambition as a kid from the Bronx?"
One evening, one of Jerry's daughters, having just flown on a commercial plane for the first time in her life, called him in a panic. "My God," she said, "the way they jam you in, and make you sit there, in one seat, it's like a prison!"
Friday, May 28, 2010
THE STICKY BOOK
Blog number 391 **** 28 May 2009
My granddaughter, who must remain nameless unless I deign to suffer verbal beatings from close family members, graduated college a couple of weeks ago. I bought my granddaughter a book by Bill Bryson, an author we both know and like, because the books we have read of his have been funny. This one started off funny, so I bought it as a gift for my graduating granddaughter. Oh hell, let's call my granddaughter, "Sue." Ok?
My wife, let's call her "Eloise," and my son. let's call him, "Zipper."
So, I bought the book, inscribed it, "To Sue, something about graduating and wishes, signed, Grandpa."
I started reading the book a bit while waiting for the graduating ceremonies to end and discovered it was a very boring book. It was written like a text book for a language major. I left it under my chair for whomever wanted it.
Today Eloise gets a call from Sue and Sue tells Eloise that a lady tracked her down and told her that her grandpa must have forgotten her present.
I can't think of a way to tie this all together.
I am not a professional writer.
I am not a professional anything.
What I do best is fail.
But that's not a profession,
Is it?
My granddaughter, who must remain nameless unless I deign to suffer verbal beatings from close family members, graduated college a couple of weeks ago. I bought my granddaughter a book by Bill Bryson, an author we both know and like, because the books we have read of his have been funny. This one started off funny, so I bought it as a gift for my graduating granddaughter. Oh hell, let's call my granddaughter, "Sue." Ok?
My wife, let's call her "Eloise," and my son. let's call him, "Zipper."
So, I bought the book, inscribed it, "To Sue, something about graduating and wishes, signed, Grandpa."
I started reading the book a bit while waiting for the graduating ceremonies to end and discovered it was a very boring book. It was written like a text book for a language major. I left it under my chair for whomever wanted it.
Today Eloise gets a call from Sue and Sue tells Eloise that a lady tracked her down and told her that her grandpa must have forgotten her present.
I can't think of a way to tie this all together.
I am not a professional writer.
I am not a professional anything.
What I do best is fail.
But that's not a profession,
Is it?
Sunday, May 23, 2010
BABIES BABIES BABIES
Blog number 390 **** 23 May 2009
We went to Mimi's this morning for breakfast. While eating we kept hearing this child making noises like babies do. I knew from its voice that it was a girl. When we left we passed by a mother, a grandmother, a girl about seven years old and her sister, a cute little thing wearing braids. At first I had a hard time getting her to look at me, but when she did, her face brightened up so beautifully. When we left, Teresa looked back and said that she was still staring at us.
That's all I got on that.
You had to be there.
We went to Walmart's from there. They were giving away free ice cream in the form of pretty large sundaes. Three different flavors of ice cream, plus three different sauces. Impossible to turn down.
There was a girl about eight years old, or ten or twelve, eating one of the free sundaes. I am pretty sure she had a slight case of Down's syndrome, which is why it was so hard to gage her age. I asked her if I could have a bite and she gave me a look like, "Go get your own. This is mine." She smiled and approached Teresa, and after I got my ice cream I offered her some of mine, which she refused. She talked to us a bit. Both Teresa and I are pretty sure that we have talked to her before in some other place. I think at Safeway's. She seemed like she knew us.
When we were checking out, she caught me from behind and gave me a hug. I learned from being with Teresa when she used to work with these people that almost always they are very loving. I think it might be Nature's way of experimenting with a species of loving humans. I sure hope it takes. If I had to choose between love and intelligence, I would choose love. But that's just me. 'sides, I ain't too impressed with what we call intelligent people anyhow. We come up short both ways. Too little of one, not where it really counts with the other.
But the baby that brought me to be writing this entry was one that caught my eye just before we went to check out. She was about nine months old and with her sister who was a year and a half, and her mother. We think they were adopted because the mother was white and both babies were Black. The nine month old was very, very Black and so beautiful! Her skin just shone, like a black pearl. I just kind of went slack jawed when I saw her and I poked Teresa and said, "look at that!" We are sure they were adopted African babies.
When I went up to her she stared at me with no indication of what was going through her head. I have learned that this usually means they are scared, so I backed off a bit, but when Teresa came up the baby looked at her and smiled and then I started talking to her and she just opened up. She was so beautiful! I can't get over it yet. We started talking to the mother and the baby dropped her head in shyness until her chin was on her chest and she never picked it up again, She did this still with a smile on her lips - as if she was embarrassed at the attention. I said to the mother, "Look. She knows we're talking about her!." The mother replied that she was very smart. Which was obvious.
What a wonderful day that was,
We went to Mimi's this morning for breakfast. While eating we kept hearing this child making noises like babies do. I knew from its voice that it was a girl. When we left we passed by a mother, a grandmother, a girl about seven years old and her sister, a cute little thing wearing braids. At first I had a hard time getting her to look at me, but when she did, her face brightened up so beautifully. When we left, Teresa looked back and said that she was still staring at us.
That's all I got on that.
You had to be there.
We went to Walmart's from there. They were giving away free ice cream in the form of pretty large sundaes. Three different flavors of ice cream, plus three different sauces. Impossible to turn down.
There was a girl about eight years old, or ten or twelve, eating one of the free sundaes. I am pretty sure she had a slight case of Down's syndrome, which is why it was so hard to gage her age. I asked her if I could have a bite and she gave me a look like, "Go get your own. This is mine." She smiled and approached Teresa, and after I got my ice cream I offered her some of mine, which she refused. She talked to us a bit. Both Teresa and I are pretty sure that we have talked to her before in some other place. I think at Safeway's. She seemed like she knew us.
When we were checking out, she caught me from behind and gave me a hug. I learned from being with Teresa when she used to work with these people that almost always they are very loving. I think it might be Nature's way of experimenting with a species of loving humans. I sure hope it takes. If I had to choose between love and intelligence, I would choose love. But that's just me. 'sides, I ain't too impressed with what we call intelligent people anyhow. We come up short both ways. Too little of one, not where it really counts with the other.
But the baby that brought me to be writing this entry was one that caught my eye just before we went to check out. She was about nine months old and with her sister who was a year and a half, and her mother. We think they were adopted because the mother was white and both babies were Black. The nine month old was very, very Black and so beautiful! Her skin just shone, like a black pearl. I just kind of went slack jawed when I saw her and I poked Teresa and said, "look at that!" We are sure they were adopted African babies.
When I went up to her she stared at me with no indication of what was going through her head. I have learned that this usually means they are scared, so I backed off a bit, but when Teresa came up the baby looked at her and smiled and then I started talking to her and she just opened up. She was so beautiful! I can't get over it yet. We started talking to the mother and the baby dropped her head in shyness until her chin was on her chest and she never picked it up again, She did this still with a smile on her lips - as if she was embarrassed at the attention. I said to the mother, "Look. She knows we're talking about her!." The mother replied that she was very smart. Which was obvious.
What a wonderful day that was,
Sunday, May 16, 2010
SPY VS. SPY
Blog number 389 **** 16 May 2009
An article in the May 10 issue of "The New Yorker" discusses the problems with the "trick" the Allies tried to play on the Axis by planting a supposedly drowned English officer in the Straight of Gibralter sea, carrying plans for the invasion of Greece. The Allies were really going to invade Sicily.
The gist of the article was that nobody really knows whether what spies discover is what the enemy wants them to discover, or whether it is really an important find.
Paraphrased somewhat for brevity, the following quote in the article is taken from a 1956 play by Peter Ustinov called, "Romanoff and Juliet." I liked it so much I thought I would share.
A crafty general of a small European country is trying to play off the United States against the Soviet Union. He tells the U.S. Ambassador that the Soviets have broken the American's secret code. "We know they know our Code," the ambassador replies. "We only give them things we want them to know." The general pauses, trying to make heads or tails of this information. Then he crosses the street and tells the Soviet ambassador, "They know you know their code." The ambassador is unfazed. "We have known for some time that they knew we knew their code. We have pretended to be duped." The general returns to the U.S. Ambassador and says, "They know you know they know you know." The Ambassador is genuinely alarmed, "What? Are you sure?"
An article in the May 10 issue of "The New Yorker" discusses the problems with the "trick" the Allies tried to play on the Axis by planting a supposedly drowned English officer in the Straight of Gibralter sea, carrying plans for the invasion of Greece. The Allies were really going to invade Sicily.
The gist of the article was that nobody really knows whether what spies discover is what the enemy wants them to discover, or whether it is really an important find.
Paraphrased somewhat for brevity, the following quote in the article is taken from a 1956 play by Peter Ustinov called, "Romanoff and Juliet." I liked it so much I thought I would share.
A crafty general of a small European country is trying to play off the United States against the Soviet Union. He tells the U.S. Ambassador that the Soviets have broken the American's secret code. "We know they know our Code," the ambassador replies. "We only give them things we want them to know." The general pauses, trying to make heads or tails of this information. Then he crosses the street and tells the Soviet ambassador, "They know you know their code." The ambassador is unfazed. "We have known for some time that they knew we knew their code. We have pretended to be duped." The general returns to the U.S. Ambassador and says, "They know you know they know you know." The Ambassador is genuinely alarmed, "What? Are you sure?"
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