Theater of the Absurd

You all know I'm a news and political junkie. I watched some of the opening of Congress and loved the theater of reading the Constitution. I did bother me that one person was so ill-informed that s/he didn't know two pages were stuck together, but I chalked it up to plain ignorance. Maybe reading the Constitution will help some.

Then, there is the non-debate over repeal of the health care bill. Oh, sorry, the Obama Job Killing Health Care Act. Two paragraphs that offer nothing to replace flawed law. Repeal would take away help for seniors in closing the donut hole, would drop everyone older than 21 from a parental health plan and would kick children with pre-existing conditions back into health care limbo.

That's what this is all about. Drama. No plan. Just pandering to part of the populace. And it's only theater. It'll play in the House, not in the Senate, not even in Peoria.

I got to thinking about plans and programs. No one seems to have a plan on how to fix anything. I do. I have an idea on how to fix the problem with the 99ers, those people who've been out of work for more than 99 weeks and who are drawing unemployment insurance.

I want each of us who have a job to adopt a 99er. That 99er would move into my house, where I would supply room and board. The 99er would have chores and tasks and one more year to find a job. Any job. Any where. No more unemployment insurance during the adoption period. No food stamps. No drain on the Federal budget.

Yes, it would be a drain on my budget, but no one in Congress gives a damn about my budget. After all, it doesn't have a debt limit. My budget would be my problem, not the government's problem. I would provide a clean, well lighted place to live, the same food my husband and I eat and encouragement to apply for and get a job.

Simple solution. As easy as when I proposed we solve two problems with one program: we feed the homeless to the hungry. But that wasn't well received. Somehow, I don't think "adopt a 99er" will be well received either.

At least I have a damned idea.

Buyer Beware - Mutts Customer Service

The old saw is: If you like something, you tell a friend. If you don't like something, you tell the world. This is a complaint about the Mutts comic strip customer service. I'll post this entry on Facebook and tweet about it. I hope it is linked on other FB pages and re-tweeted.

I ordered a print of a Mutts comic strip as a Christmas present to me. I followed the link on the Daily Mutts feed in my inbox. I clicked on "order this print," searched for the print I wanted, placed the order and received a strip from a week later. It was not the strip I wanted and think I ordered. I did not see the fine print at the bottom saying orders are non-refundable and non-exchangable.

Customer support insists I ordered a print from a week later than the one I wanted. I can't prove who's right. It doesn't matter.

I sent a note to customer service and received a cold-shoulder reply: "I have double checked your order and the print you ordered was from October 8, 2010. Kindly note, due to all Pick-a-Prints being custom printed, orders are non-refundable and non-exchangeable. I apologize for this inconvenience."

Note that the link goes out to the print Mutts customer service says I ordered. Easy way to prove you are right. Would have been no problem if customer service had sent a copy of my order... So, Mutts customer service could have sent me to the print shipped -- or I could have ordered the wrong print.

It is true that all prints are custom printed. They are. And there is an embossed seal on the paper. No signature by Patrick McDonnell, but I didn't expect that. And all prints are struck when ordered. It would be no problem to refund my money or let me exhange the print for the correct one.

What is the upshot of this? I will never buy anything from Patrick McDonnell again. His customer service isn't.

And what about the incorrect print? I haven't decided whether to use it as a fire starter, throw it away or toss it in the Goodwill bag. I will not keep it and I will never display anything from the comic strip again.

2011

Happy New Year! It's now officially 2011. Let the 2012 Presidential campaign begin.

Oh, not that. Let it not begin.

Here's how I ended 2010. Actually, I end every year the same way since I was a student in Japan when dinosaurs walked the earth. I picked up many great habits in Japan. One that I've never lost is ending a year with a clean house and no bills unpaid.

I spent much of New Year's Day cleaning and putting away Christmas, all but the tree. That comes down today during the Rose Bowl. When I was a student, I would clean my tiny (9' x 9') apartment before going to my host family's house to clean with them. When we were done, we'd go out for a nice dinner, then come home and get dressed to go to temple at midnight. The girls would put on their kimono; I would put on a dress. (Nothing looks sillier than a 5'8" white woman in a kimono. Just not a pretty sight.) We'd walk through the cold and snow (usually) to wave incense smoke over our heads. Then we'd move to the temple altar and throw coins in for good luck.

I can do everything except go to a temple. I doubt there is a Buddhist temple within 100 miles of where I live. Maybe more. Still, I can complete all but that of the ritual.

The other part of the ritual is to pay all bills before New Year's Day. That means having them in the mailbox or in the postal carrier's hands, not sitting on a desk waiting a week before they can be mailed.

There is something so satisfying about having completed these two seemingly trivial traditions. Part of is an enduring connection with my years in Japan. Part of it is knowing that I am starting a new year as fresh and "new" as possible. Part of it is an annual renewal.

And now, with my resolutions posted on my cork board on my desk, it's time to begin working on one of them. Time for a health walk. See ya' later.

Undecorating the House

I'm in that tweeny time, between Christmas and New Year's. I begin decorating the house for Christmas on Thanksgiving weekend. Whatever I get out and in place is what I do for the holidays. This year, I was prolific. Heck!

Now, I have to take it down. I keep looking at everything and wondering if I should do this in one convulsive effort on New Year's Day. Or, should I begin slowly and clear out that which catches my eye.

I mean, I could strip the linens from the table, pull up the sheet under the tree and throw the Santa hat chair back covers into the washer. That would take care of some of the squishy stuff.

Or, I could pack away the Victorian carolers and clear off an entire table top. And I could put away the winter gourd collection. And take down one of the Navitiy scenes. That would undecorate an entire room.

Or, I could put away the twelve teddy bears that line the staircase. Wow! That would be another entire "room" undecorated.

Or, I could continue packing up things to take to Goodwill. I promised that if I received replacements for anything, I would evaluate the original to see if it had life in it for another family. I got many replacements, so packing up goodies for Goodwill would bring two-fold satisfaction: I can get rid of things I don't need and provide retail therapy for others.

Or, I could update the Christmas card list. (I've already written and mailed my thank you notes, so that's not on the list of stuff left to do.) Or, I could put away the last of the gifts that are still scattered across the living room floor.

Or, I could have a nap. With a purring cat on my lap.