Am I on my way? Read that first section in bold and tell me if you agree.
Now, I must fully disclose my mathematical aptitude. Many of us in this world are not particularly gifted in the manipulation of numbers. I believe that my skills settle somewhere below that. I struggled with math all through school and never once turned in an A. I'm so averse to math that I selected my college major based largely on the math requirements. I had a single course titled "Mathematics for Liberal Arts Majors" but everyone just called it "Intro to Numbers." And still I produced the weakest showing of my college career, grateful that a C is still a passing grade.
Knowing this, I believe that I'm still within my mathematical capacities when I assert that a person requires at least one TrueBlue point to be considered "on your way to redeeming for your next Award Flight." Moreover I am squarely in my realm of expertise to state that the preceding quote contains too many prepositions. Jetting indeed.
So, uh, was this Historic Life-Saving Station poorly run? Are these the, let's say, negative outcomes? See, a good Life-Saving Station really ought not need its own cemetery.
This troubling sign comes courtesy of Point Reyes National Seashore. While I'm not above poking a little fun at the place, I do truly adore the park and the whole Tomales Bay area.
This morning I woke up to find this message darkening my inbox:
Congratulations. The South African football association, safa is proud to inform you that you have just won Two Million Five Hundred Thousand United States Dollars (US$2.500, 000.00).
I have to wonder, are these guys even trying anymore? These schemes were never models of grammar and spelling, but come on. If you can't even type a number correctly, how many suckers are you going to reel in? You'd think they might use some of their spoils to, say, hire someone who speaks the language of their marks. But I guess everyone burns out at some point and just churns through the workday. Makes me wonder what a trip to the DMV is like in Nigeria...
A couple days ago, my bride and I were on either side our five year old boy on the couch mercilessly delivering kisses to his cheeks. After I'd delivered about 5 or 6 he turned away from me and announced that he only wanted kisses from Mommy because: "Daddy's breath smells like Thursday."
I excused myself to brush.
This one has bugged me since I was a kid. Look on any Band Aid package and you'll see this pointless pledge. I mean, we all know they can't guarantee an open bandage retains its sterility. So why the guarantee? It's the Schrödinger's Cat of product safety: you can't know if your Band Aid is clean without collapsing the waveform.
I've got a few more to propose.
Mac OS X: Guaranteed not to crash unless computer is running.
Windows: Guaranteed not to crash unless you're alone or with someone.
Claritin: Guaranteed effective in the absence of allergens.
Taco Bell: Guaranteed E. Coli free unless opened or eaten.
A few years ago, I was sent to Japan on business. You might think "Cool! Free trip to Japan" Many folks would. I'm not one of those people.
See, I'm a bit of a curmudgeon. Not only that, I'm a picky eater with lowbrow tastes. It's the culinary analog to stagflation, rare but not unheard of. Worse yet, I don't eat any seafood. And I mean any seafod. If it lived in water, I won't eat it. Japan, being comprised entirely of islands, is a place where whole fish are in the breakfast buffet. So it might not surprise you that I didn't take to the cuisine.
I recorded the experience in an email to my family.
Copyright 2007, 2008 Stuart Gripman. All rights reserved.
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