Super-natural internet (and accomplices)

Wasn't Halloween over a week ago? Or is this house the victim of carry-over?

The past few days, the internet and telephone have been acting eerie. The phone will ring by itself, with no one on the other end. My custom then is to hit *69 (in lieu of not having caller ID) to see who hung up on me, but then there's no dial tone. The phone stays off the hook for about five minutes, then comes back on.

At the exact moment it comes on, the internet goes off, and we have to reset the modem. Then the internet will come back on, but the phone will go off again. And the process repeats itself a few times... and it normally happens between the hours of 8 and 10 PM.

I'm surrounded by people who believe in ghosts; Steve and Jenni in particular. Steve can visualize occurrences in advance; Jenni also can to a greater degree. I myself can see spirits drifting in and out. While theirs are shapeless, mine have form and definition.

There's still talk, even years later, about ghosts haunting this house. Steve and I conducted a mini-seance two weeks ago. Our attention keeps getting drawn to the vestibule closet, whose walls are made from the same type of wood as you would find on pallets.

Unless the closet was a later addition, there is a peculiarity here. The two houses to the east of me have the exact same room design, have the vestibule closet in the same place, and have either plaster or drywall inside them. Why pallet wood in ours?

Anyway, Steve and I got a far-out sense during the mini-seance, that this house is actually not the original house. Steve commented there may have been a gruesome fire here in the 1950s, with deaths of two children. I do sense some youthful angst around the house, though I'm still not sure if that's the exact story. Plus, Diane and Dawn have never mentioned anything about an incident; Diane has lived here since before this house was built.

Wow, did I get off track! Mind you, there won't be any second burning of the house. Items don't mysteriously get picked up and moved. We've had rodents under the back deck over the years as well; a ground mole twice chewed up our water meter cable. The other cables, save for the electric, hang by a thread near the foundation of the house. Perhaps wind is overtaking the ones that service our phone & internet.

But this year's been a very windy year. So why has it taken up to now for these things to become haunted? After Halloween, mind you?

Three's company, too

It became official today: We gain a roommate by the weekend.

The winner is George, who throughout the "screening" process showed enthusiasm (not desperation) in getting another place. He currently resides in a bad part of town, where all the things you read about are reality. Words won't be minced: he lives in Inkster, which, by all sights, is NOT recovering the way the politicians say it is.

Wow, what a surprise, given that it was said by the politicians.

The house will more resemble a warehouse the next few days as Steve and I rearrange and move furniture (rearrange? Why don't we eliminate?... I know) to accomodate our new arrival. With this, our bills will be cut an additional 25% per month, which helps everyone's bottom line.

So much for a relaxing weekend on my part. But if it relaxes the wallet, it will still be a productive weekend nonetheless; a trend-setter.

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Boy, did people ever speak up for change at the polls yesterday. My old Southgate mayor was re-elected, but in no less than four Downriver communities, new mayors will be brought in.

Melvindale's mayoral change was a no-brainer. Twenty-five years ago, the city got into negative PR when a chemical leak gave them the nickname "dirty city". It happened again in October as a chemical leak went untreated and caused the evacuation of 3,000 of their residents, with faulty response from the mayor at the time.

One might consider it as a case of short tempers among the citizens. Whatever it was, they recognized the power of their vote, which is what everyone in this country should dream and make a reality.

Do you sequester them?

Michigan grows broke, part 157... and it only gets more pathetic.

Still at issue with the government is the realization that hey, we may have made a mistake with imposing this service tax we passed without voter approval in October. They're talking about transposing that to an addenum for the state business tax.

However they get their money is up to them. But following a missed deadline in October which resulted in the government shutting down for a few hours, and narrowly averting a second shutdown just days ago, they're fighting a negative fate here again.

At least, during their deer-hunting seasonal break.

With the state at a crossroads, does our government, accused (and rightfully so) of doing nothing until the last minute, give themselves a reprieve in the Michigan wilderness with unfinished business (and the livelihoods of many) on the docket? The proposed break lasts for 18 days. Supposedly, it's said somewhere in the state constitution that this 18-day "holiday break" is for the hunters in Congress.

Out of all the congressional people in there today, it was reported that only two have applied for deer-hunting licenses. Spokespeople also say that the politicians need to "get back in their districts" to serve their constituents.

Over what? Taxpayer-paid coffee?

If the government is now all of a sudden concerned about supporting their consituents and want to make a difference to put some *gasp* honesty in politics, the best thing they can do is forego their break, or at least cut it to one week, and only AFTER this latest tax bug-a-boo is solved.

The average person these days probably doesn't care if they see their congressperson in November. What they want to see are results. They want to see an economy on the rebound in the not-too-distant future. They want to see an economic base begin to stabilize.

Wise companies budget for the entire fiscal year, at the start of the fiscal year. They don't want to invest in white-out as they keep recalculating income and expenses, namely taxes. With all the ideas assured of passage, and then revoked, nobody can work a budget except through a pencil.

These pencils should not have to last an additional eighteen days if a solution can be reached in half that time. Wouldn't the politicians consider it better for their egos (trying to use some reverse psychology here) if they could enter a reasonable week-long break knowing they passed a solution that will keep this state solvent into next year? With election season virtually ending today and having no one to campaign for, December gives them plenty to time to go back to their districts.

First things first is the business at hand, which is to solve the budget situation so that we can breathe. The papers are already pessimistic about the holiday season making less money as consumers buy less.

Why fan the flames any longer, figuratively letting Mrs. O'Leary's cow to cross the lake to set our hopes ablaze?

Full service is REALLY gone

Yes, the days of the gas station attendant pumping your gas, checking your oil and other vital fluids, and offering to change your windshield wipers are long gone. The last full-service station that I saw was during my 1996 trek down to Myrtle Beach, at an old-fashioned Mobil gas station on some out-of-the-way road somewhere.

But what did I see today while driving in Taylor? A new gas station price display. There's a price for "regular with car wash" and "regular without car wash"!

Sorry if I may seem naive, but I couldn't believe this. Believe it or not, it would cost you more at the pump to NOT have a car wash. I wonder if they get you for the difference once you do enter the car wash... many of those auto-washes charge you $3.00 or more for just the basic wash: no wax, no underbody treatment, nothing.

How long will this latest breakdown in prices last? Mobil was the first station to offer cheaper gas if you paid cash, versus using a credit card (even theirs). This lasted, I believe, three years with other stations joining in. What happens three years later? Signs displayed all over the place: "Cash or credit, same low price."

Shouldn't the opposite be true at the BP gas station I'm referring to, especially with our natural resources dwindling? With lake levels at record lows, and the never-say-die rumor that our water would have to be pumped to parched areas of the nation? Communities insitute water restrictions or outright bans on summertime usage during hot weather. Why encourage car washes under these conditions just to make gas a few cents cheaper?

But you never know. With gas prices as they are, people may be tempted to see past the fine print and save a few pennies for a clean car.

I just want a car that holds itself together, clean or not.

Another historical moment attended

Just got back from the 2007 PBA event at Taylor Lanes. I've only attended a handful of events in all the years I've watched bowling on TV, but I've attended some good ones.

* Today, Walter Ray Williams extended his PBA titles record to 43 with today's win, and I was there. Also witnessed the potential rebirth of the ladies' tour.

* I was there when the late Earl Anthony became the first to win 40 titles.

* I was there when the current Player Of The Year, Doug Kent, won his first title.

* I was there when Hall Of Famer Marshall Holman won his 22nd and final PBA title.

* I was there when the seventeenth televised perfect game was thrown.

There weren't many extra-cirriculars out there. Norm Duke & Brian Voss made things great last year with their Skills Challenge segments, which they don't have this year. No bowlers made their way to the bar to drink and shoot darts. Everything was basically cleaned up over there by 3PM.

But I did call ahead this year... which means I got in for free, got the program for free, and got the VIP seat for free... and my face was all over ESPN yesterday as I boldly predicted!

I have never seen so many 10-pins left by one person over two games as was the case with Walter Ray today - nine of them covering 20 frames! Unbelievable. Being able to shoot spares as well as he does is what carried him.

And guess what - Erin gave me four free games to bowl when all was said & done - Walter Ray even watched me bowl a frame or two. How about that - the greatest bowler in history watching me. Of course, by the third frame, he left, so I figured he got scared and didn't want my bad habits running off on him!

I was rooting hard for Eugene McCune - he's won one title in 23 years of competing and falling just short. I hoped he would win, but I don't mind seeing the titles record continue to fall.

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One reason I left earlier this year, other than the bowlers disappearing this year versus being more accessible this year, was that November's rent payment was in Mike's hands, as he was holding money Steve loaned him.

As of now, you guessed it: no money from Mike, and no way to get a hold of him because he's not answering his phone. So, six years late, I'm going to pull revenge on his father - by taking some of Mike's stuff like Dennis did to me in 2001.

There's no guilt complex I'm feeling... after all, when a guy messes with you and threatens your shelter, it's good reason to try payback. I've gotten more liberal in this regard lately.

I'm still happy he found true love. But love can blind, just as much as it can be blind itself. You don't let it blind yourself from the friends you've known since Day One. I wish him happiness, but Steve and I are done with him otherwise. Just waiting on Steve to get done with work so I can take him over to Mike's.

Three months rush in one day

Wow, what a task... finally completed!

Though not updated every day, I have virtually caught up on all entries since I went on hiatus in July. The timeline is pretty much complete and accurate and I apologize for not being around lately. I was actually in a writing mood today... this has been fun.

Speaking of not being around lately, one of my top favorite blogs here on blogger, Malls Of America, which I linked to before, has not been updated since the end of August. One moment, Keith Milford was adding pictures and everything most every day, then BLAM! Nothing. Exploring malls from the past are something I really enjoy (I have one on my computer desktop) and Keith had a good thing going. I hope he hasn't fallen off the face of the planet.

The PBA Tour makes its annual stop in Taylor tomorrow. I am planning on being there earlier this year, at the 11 AM door opening. I called two days ago and told them to leave a message for Erin, the GM, that I was going to be there. So I fulfilled the promise to call ahead of time to where I might get MVP seats and be seen on ESPN. I've told Jenni and my dad to watch tomorrow to see if they can sight me. They threw a 300 game at last year's event, and Walter Ray Williams, the 42-time winner, is the tournament leader. It would be a pleasure to meet him.

Jenni's doing pretty good... work was better yesterday (starting a new streak of accident-free days)... Tyler's acting up again... still working on choosing one of two people to move in here... watching YouTube videos of The Price Is Right with Bob Barker (since Drew has no clue)... hoping my consecutive days of a headache gets snapped at 17... and waiting for the potential first snowfall on Tuesday. My life is very active by all stretches, and thanks to an honest sit-down, now you know, as Paul Harvey says, "The Rest Of The Story."

Thanks for your patience in waiting for new material, and I promise to update more frequently.

Things that go "bump" in the day

Today I was involved in my first auto accident after fifteen years of driving.

I got smacked in my cab by a Mack truck, literally, on Telegraph Road in Brownstown. I was stopped in the left-most lane trying to make a left turn into a mobile home park with signals on, when suddenly I felt a "WUMP!" and next thing I know, this tanker is right behind me.

About thirty seconds after the impact, the passenger I had with me started complaining about neck problems. Upon inspection of the car, I noticed very little damage sustained with the hit, which I think was at 30 MPH. At this point, my mind wrote off the damage and I became more concerned with the welfare of my passenger. So I had a little discussion with the tanker driver and arranged to have his supervisor contacted immediately. The last I saw of Scott (the passenger), it appeared he was having whiplash. I asked him three times if he needed treatment, and he turned me down three times -- even when I asked "are you sure?"

I had a very heavy heart when I left there... and just want tomorrow to pass quickly so that I can get to this weekend that I desperately need. Of course, the boss went nuts and asked "how can I send the car out in this condition?" Damn hard plastic bumpers; if they had been chrome as in the good old days, you might notice a little discolorization, but nothing else. I had to laugh to myself as he said this; my attention turned to the cab next to me which had a nice green streak of paint stretching from the rear bumper to the rear passenger door. His father-in-law's cab had a big gash on the bumper. My damage was cosmetic in nature only. Why does he fly off the handle at something minor?

Days like this make me wish I never took the job. I barely made any money today, and with the stress about Scott, I know tonight won't provide much sleep.

I just can't understand how that stretch of Telegraph Road (which looks a lot like the road layout in the photo below) can function with the increase in traffic - without a left-turn lane or more signals throughout the area.



Hopefully this doesn't show a sign of me becoming accident prone. The night blindness thing notwithstanding, it actually is a great stress to take some of these passengers along, simply because you know someone else's life is in your hands. Even at the airport, what we did affected only us, not a paying customer.

The accident was not my fault. Nonetheless, I'll be starting on Monster.com all over again. Something tells me this stepping stone is about to sink.

Busloads! Boxcar loads! Planeloads!

All told, one hundred fourteen (114) trick-or-treaters came to the door last night in a 90-minute period. And this came after I was fifteen minutes late getting home from work tonight.

I'm still trying to catch my breath. I bought four bags of candy, thinking Steve could snack at two of them. In forty minutes, 3 1/2 bags were gone. So I started handing out nickels. I must have handed out almost $6 worth of nickels alone.

At one point, I walked into the kitchen to cut open another bag of candy (this year, they were Butterfinger Caramel Cremes I think -- and no, I'm not about to root through the garbage to verify that), which took thirty seconds. Eleven kids congregated on my driveway in a line in just that time. I thought, where were they bussing these kids in from?

Then I remembered: for twenty years, we lived on a dead-end street. Even to drive from the street in the complex behind ours to the home street would take five minutes. Thirty-nine homes, only half of which had kids. Any year we had thirty kids, I would marvel at their desperation.

I remember my dad's mom saying she would have a ton of trick-or-treaters every Halloween. The exact numbers escape me... but I wonder if I beat her record this year.

What I considered strange is that I didn't hear much hubbub about candy safety checkpoints like in previous years. And Detroit's "Angels Night" mission, held again over the holiday, garnered very little news. I'm not sure if that's a good sign or not, but as long as it's not more bloody PR for the city, I guess it's all good. (Though one of the drivers told me the entire Angels Night thing is pure propaganda -- it wouldn't surprise me.)

Remember this entry from last November 12, entitled "Consolation Prize For Linus"? It detailed a pumpkin patch near the airport, when I was complaining about real pumpkins laid to the side and gone to waste. As it turns out, the house on that property burned two days ago, and according to the same driver who mentioned "propaganda", all seven occupants of the house perished. Strange that I've never read that.

I passed by there today and saw the gutted shell of the house; yet there were people in the patch, picking out pumpkins without a care in the world or one cent out of their pocket. I reserve comment on that image for a moment... it's too deeply disturbing to even fathom. Death lurks by (if that's indeed what happened), and the people don't care?

Guess we need to make those gory horror flicks mandatory viewing.

They've evolved from Underdog

Some photos to share of Jenni's kids in all their glory... Halloween is shared by all of them as the best holiday of the year.



To the left is Zack, dressed to the nines in a ninja costume. For some reason I think the ninja costume is going to be the hit this Halloween - again. I guess they like holding those fake weapons...






This is Nick in a black??? Spiderman outfit. Spiderman is something he's wanted to be all year. But Spiderman's outfit is done in red, isn't it? Or does he have a dark side? Wow, what an appropriate time of year to be opening that can of bats - er, worms, eh?...




And here is Cheyanna, dressed as a witch, one year after insisting she wanted to be a princess. As the old song goes, "I've seen the world from both sides now"... I wish I could see a picture of her in the princess outfit.

And Jenni? She herself went as a witch for the holiday too. She loves the holiday and is well known for watching a marathon of scary movies. She started on that a bit late this year, but she's in the process of catching up.

No fake outlaw costume for me this year. Had I been able to stay at Janice's halloween party last weekend, what would I have been? The Burger King. That would not have been pretty to say the least. I'd have hidden underneath my old Underdog costume which sits in some landfill somewhere.

They had a lot of fun at various functions, and they've shovelled in the candy supply big-time. Though I won't catch Halloween spirit like they have, it's got me tempted to hand candy out this year - first time since 2003. People will tell you that even at a young age, I enjoyed giving candy more than working for it...

... too many free treats for my dad!

Third roommate, takes 1 and 2

The search has been on for quite some time now to add another roommate to the mix here in order to lower individual spending bills. For three months I've been running an ad on the website adpost.com advertising the benefits of the house. However, the ad disappoints (and I admit it) by not having enough photos. (But why would I want to photograph Steve's room? I don't need to show the public photos of natural regeneration areas - HA!)

In that time, we've received one response from a British native that was to locate here on a work fellowship program. Everything seemed ready to go until the lack of photos was addressed. I sent a reply stating the problem would be fixed soon, but I've not heard hide nor hair from him since. I've not bothered to fix the problem, thinking it will take another response to the ad for me to fix the camera.

The ad may be completely worthless, but my PR skills may not be. Today one of my passengers expressed interest in moving in, saying it would save a lot of money. For one month in an absolute DIVE of a motel on Telegraph Road runs him almost $700. Geez, for $150 less per month, he gets use of a house with rent and utilities paid. He's shown some interest, but it's been tough trying to get a hold of him on the cellphone.

As I reiterate, the late though welcome severance check from Spirit has bailed me out this month. It seems to be a recurring theme to Michigan government, too. But I would hope my good days outnumber my bad days money-wise at work. It's the risk you take when driving a cab. I don't want any more close calls come rent time.

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ADDENUM: Possible second candidate interested in the house, showed more enthusiasm and says he will call by the weekend of November 3 and 4. Again, it's thanks to good PR skills I've obviously developed over time.

A success (while I was there)

Just came home from spending last night at Janice's with Jenni and the kids, helping prepare for a kid/adult Halloween party. I would have stayed for the whole thing (it ends tonight), but I wanted to be safe. Some members of the family aren't sure about me and I'd rather not start World War IV around the kids. (However, the only way they can be sure about me is to ask me, not make comments when they've never seen me.)

Things were chaotic, as can be expected when you have a household full of kids. The trip up was rather chaotic as well.

That darn night blindness thing I must have threatened to bite me throughout the 35-mile trip up there. The car has been running much better lately since I've figured out the last of its tricks. But it hadn't been tried for such a long distance at one time before (Flat Rock to St. Clair Shores). To make it worse, it began to rain slightly while waiting for Jenni in Flat Rock. Telegraph Road was going to be very tricky to manuever up.

I simply laid down the ground rules: when they saw me strain forward, all talking was to stop, as I had to concentrate hard to get around areas with either amber streetlights or no streetlights at all. Passing was a hazard. The kids obviously didn't get to say much during the trip, but I hope they understood why.

The car held up surprisingly well; didn't stall once, and we ended up at Janice's about 9 PM. The kids were up until 1 AM, Jen & me until at least 3 AM, which made for a 22-hour day for me. The kids, when together, are literal firecrackers. They're happy to see each other, and at the same time, fight for space. They fight over everything. Every half hour, something happened in that basement that required an adult. There were many threats of party cancellations.

Part of the reason Jenni and I were up so late was because the kids couldn't get settled downstairs. There were two pup tents, one larger than the other. Arguments ensued over who should get the bigger one, the smaller one, and the rug. Heck, I'd have preferred the rug just staring into the Halloween lights I strung on the ceiling!

Angie, one of Janice's friends, bounded down the steps and virtually waked the neighborhood up yelling at them. When it got to be too much, I went downstairs to handle it.

I've found the last thing these kids need is another adult yelling at them. That's partially why they act to the degree they do. I wanted to settle it diplomatically. Without raising my voice, I spent ten minutes in discussion planning their sleeping arrangements for that night as well as the next. Jenni came downstairs and saw immediately they were calmer. The others wondered how I was able to handle it so well. I kept the reasoning to myself, leaving it to the other adults (minus Jenni and I) to grasp the proceedings - and maybe learn something from it.

All else went well during the time there, and my car actually rewarded a rare showing of guts -- by travelling seventeen miles of expressway in a row - without stuttering or anything! I got home in a little under half-an-hour. Remember, the one time I tried to take Nine Mile Road, I spent an hour on that road alone.

Finally, it looks like the car is somewhat reliable now, which doesn't come a moment too soon. And from what I hear, things didn't end up so hot at the party after I left, so my going home averted World War V.*

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* Remember, George W. Bush started World War III in 2003.

One move I had bet against

Cousin Mike moved to Oklahoma City the other day. Unbelieveable. But good for him.

Right now, his trailer sits vacant with most of the furnishings & fixtures intact. The trailer has to stay in his father's name because his father plans on spending nights there while he's in Michigan. Apparently, all Mike's necessary items went down in one carload, a nineteen-hour trip that went without a hitch. And suddenly, his older brother Johnny and I are the only ones on that side of the family still in the state.

I would never have predicted Mike to make this move, even as recently as seven months ago. I never could have believed that Mike would have actually left Spirit. He was so gung-ho about the place until recently. Through my experiences there as well as what he witnessed in those last few weeks, however, obviously changed even HIS mind.

I used to joke with him that he wore a shirt with an "S" underneath... but the "S" didn't stand for Superman, it stood for Spirit. He was married to that place, for all we knew. Now it comes as a shock when we realize even Mike can get turned off by a bad work environment.

Steve worries about Mike in particular, because he hasn't landed a job in OKC yet. Mike's not been one that's been wise about money, we must admit. Too many bills and not enough paychecks. But the fact is, he's been following his heart.

He was able to reconnect with his hidden high school sweetheart, Cindy, through MySpace. By "hidden", it means he had a secret crush on her; and after the reconnection he found out she had that same secret crush on him. The crush went unanswered for over 15 years. Now they are together and I have seen him in photos more happy than I ever have.

He (along with Steve) used to tease me about all the girlfriends I had in the past. Mike went 32 years without one, so I would even sense some resentment in his teasing. Steve was a little more critical about Mike than I was; I always believed anything was possible. Still, it's shocking to a point when it actually happens. You can prepare for something all your adult life, and when it comes, you feel as if you never prepared for it at all. Yet sometimes, the shock can be a good thing.

Mike realized at the same time as I did that Michigan has no hope for the immediate future. Yet I didn't think either of us had the guts to do something about it. Lack of money is not a crutch, it is a sad fact of life for us. I always thought I would make the move first, but look what happened. And I feel happy for him.

Sure, I wish I could say it was me that could move, but every move I make is stamped with "Proceed with Caution". I don't think he's blown the caution to the winds, like some of his friends say. Steve and I both worry about him. But you cannot defeat the heart, or the mind when it agrees with the heart and provides the determination and inner gut to do this.

If anyone deserves a better life (outside of me), it's Mike. It's been 33 uneasy years for him. Now he gets to shake that off and start the new life he's always wanted, but had doubted he'd ever get -- before now.

Bravo, cousino.

Don't call Sam -- call Terry

Whatever lawyer is out there, famous or not, I'm about ready to call them. Short, sweet and to the point: Spirit's severance check to me is STILL not in the mail and is STILL not deposited into my bank account, as promised by the station manager back on August 29.

Phone calls have been made, and have either not been returned, or been treated to lip service. Apparently, nobody in the department (which comprises one single room) ever sees each other. How can this be, when they are scheduled to work the same hours and the same days?

Not having what was promised to me is proving to be heart-wrenching. Rent is a never-ending fiasco at the 1st of every month. With my cab fare share, I can get the rent, but what about the utilities? Steve still owes me money, and to his credit he's been working his can off. He's been giving me what he can, and it has helped. But the budget I had in mind for the rest of 2007 was based on the pair of checks Spirit would give me. I got one of them at the beginning of last month.

Who knows if they're even going to send it through?

This could prove damaging, I think, if it keeps going like this. Throw a lawyer on the case, and they'd be out more money than if they just paid me now. The station manager wouldn't look too brilliant, either.

Actually, now that I'm on the outside looking in as far as the airline goes, near the tops of the Google list for Spirit is this blog by blogger Alex Rudloff, simply saying not to fly Spirit (NOTE: This link puts you at comment #436; please navigate that page for links back to the initial page of comments if you so choose).

I added my two cents into the responses from the public, which at the time labelled four hundred people. Four hundred! Third on the Google list for most hits. Absolutely amazing. Does anybody look brillant over there now?

I've seen the redesign of the planes (another messy, loud color look), and that their uniforms are even going to have sponsors. Did I really want to be sponsored by Geico? Wouldn't that equate me to the Caveman?

If that's the way management thinks of me when they decide, or they forget, to send me what was promised me through a corporate email, hopefully a few calls from me will change that in a hurry.

Why do they promote bad runs?

Cab passengers better not think that their driver can't guess what's going on when they're into something suspicious. They also better not assume that their driver won't report what's going on, in exchange for the proper fare being received.

I had my first ugly fare today, a young couple who were obviously going on a drug run to Delray in southeast Detroit. Myself, I have no interest in transporting people to get a fix. But it's a necessary part of the business, and per the contract, you can't refuse a fare, so I had to take them.

Safe to say I will try to avoid the immediate area around the office during mid-day.

I think they were worried half the time that I was going to blow their cover, which I wish I could have done. Because a cab driver can be held liable for trafficking if caught. Thank goodness for them I stick to the rules of the road on a regular basis.

If these drugs are illegal, why do cab companies let drivers transport the pushers and the buyers to do their thing? The dispatcher can locate areas on a map, but can't see the area the driver is going to, so I guess the judgement is left up to the driver. On a bad money day, you're more tempted to just transport them. But I just wonder why we're allowed to do that? Shouldn't we be busting ass and taking names, following the law to its letter?

This particular transport left something to be desired - even conning the company out of half the cab fare. Guess that what happens when they don't get their regular driver - who they can't trick. I'll call it "lesson learned" and file it away for a rainy day.

The rest of the week is going okay so far, by the way.

And it all comes back to term limits

Newspaper readers, take note of the fine print: What Michigan averted on October 1 could likely happen again on November 1.

I had to explain to a couple friends that October 1 didn't end the budget crisis in this state: they only agreed to a one-month extension of the current teetering budget.

Michigan Governor Jennifer Granholm and House Speaker Andy Dillon are taking much of the heat from this. There are some fledgling recall campaigns being organized for at least five state congressional people. At the center of the rhubarb is how to close a billion-dollar deficit without making cuts to their special interest groups.

The newspapers won't tell you that. They won't mention the groups. Maybe they don't need to, because the average Joe knows what's going on better than some of these staff writers let on.

Criticism runs the gamut. But one point they cite, now more than ever, was the term limit package voters approved several years ago. I for one was a term-limit supporter at that time. Too many career politicians in the state, too much cronyism, too many people voting for them time & again because of name recognition... voting based on past service to the state, not thinking about their current rate of service.

However, the term limit system has had a few elections to flow freely. And people are now pointing out that those on the House and Senate floors lack the experience, the authority, or the respect from their peers to muster an acceptable budget package without shrouds of doubt behind them.

Who are some of the dinosaurs still lurking? Not on a state level, but U.S. Congressman John Dingell still resides on Capitol Hill. Opponents running against him used to call him "Bigfoot". He was their main target of their campaigns to get term limits imposed. There's been a Dingell in Congress forever, they said. The call for fresh blood was obvious, and the state citizenry bought into it.

Now, Dingell looks wise compared to some of the people from Michigan. On a personal note, he even helped Jenni greatly, dealing with a corrupt social worker who was denying Jenni the services she deserves and needs. With an Andy Dillon there in Dingell's place, would the same thing have happened?

It's been said that the people in state politics now don't have a backbone and cannot vote their clear conscience. They have to rely on a state prototype that's no longer effective. They can't get out of the shadows of their predecessors, so they vote likewise to continue the tradition.

Michigan's government, as a result, looks very weak to us, and to the nation in general. The union consists of 49 states plus Michigan, according to one survey I read.

If they were laughing October 1, there'll be sides splitting all over the place on November 1.

Think of the state of Michigan and its citizens for a moment, folks. The citizens, NOT the companies.

And save us from final damnation on November 1.

Choose your strike target

Welcome to the land of the strike, folks.

General Motors just recovered after a brief strike against the UAW. Chrysler is their next target, and odds are they could go on strike too. Last on the list is Ford, which has gone through the most turmoil of any of the Big Three the last couple years.

Now there's rumblings that one of the three casinos in Detroit could end up on strike as well, slashing the tax rolls of Detroit day-by-day. Remember that all three casinos were threatened with shutdown during that marathon to October 1 the state just had.

In Michigan's blase economy, it stands out as no surprise that these strikes are so imminent. But they couldn't have come at a worse time regardless.

The state needs stability fast... which is all that can be said.

They played "Chiffon" once too often

I loved that commercial for Chiffon margarine in the 1970s. You know, the one known for "It's not NICE to fool Mother Nature!"

By chance, was it played over and over and over again in the 70s and 80s? And did Mother Nature get so fogged up over it that she's exacting revenge on the planet now?

I should read up on Al Gore. I need to make it a point to see An Inconvenient Truth one night - Steve has a copy on his computer. I've heard Gore has plenty of good points to offer on the future of this planet.

Look at what has transpired here in the last couple years. The last days of my time off for my condition coincided with the crashing of Hurricane Katrina into Louisiana; not to mention Rita and Wilma later in the year. This years' California wildfires. The alarming lack of water around suburban Atlanta. The constant reports here in Michigan that our lake levels are dropping to record low levels. The video footage of the great ice barriers crumbling due to increased warmth in the Arctic. The tsunamis we've heard so much about. Last year's Michigan winter was virtually non-existent; very mild and rather dry.

Maybe I can make a better educated guess on what's causing the weather to go haywire after watching Gore. My reasoning could end up anywhere between Ozone Layer and auto emissions to the Second Coming.

How many acres are burning as we speak? How many have burned in the last ten years? How many more acres of forests do we have country-wide? And how long before we burn every last tree down to the ground? Even Michigan had a wildfire in its Upper Peninsula this summer, so we are not immune by any means.

The last two years, we've been spared catastrophic hurricanes. But who's to say the Gulf Coast won't get socked in the near future? Hurricane amounts come and go in cycles, and meterologists say we are only in the beginning stages of the next cycle.

What happens when all the pipelines and wells run dry in the southeast? We've seen what happens (2004) when all the power goes out, but do we ever think of a world without water? It seems impossible, since 70% of the earth is water. You can bet some pundits would suggest we transport Great Lakes water down there, but we must pay attention to our own dropping lake levels.

The ice barriers hold so much water potential in their solid form and help promote the current temperature planet-wide. You lose those, and the water evaporates away, we lose something else: the overall stability of the planet, perhaps.

I'll watch Gore's video as soon as I can. And I must admit they don't sell Chiffon anymore, I use Parkay... so hopefully I don't fool Mother Nature one more time.

On a serious note, though, it's the truth: none of us can afford to.

More YouTube finds

There have been some great finds I've seen on YouTube in the last couple weeks. Chief among these is this clip celebrating Bugs Bunny's 51st and a half birthday. I think it was made for one of the Golden Collection releases of Looney Tunes classics a couple years back.

Much the same way that Steve mourned the death of Muppet legend Jim Henson, I felt bad about the death of Mel Blanc, the man of a thousand voices. I didn't think anyone could duplicate that talent, but whoever's doing it now is doing a fine job, as you'll see in the video.

The exception: Elmer Fudd... but only Arthur Q. Bryan ever did Fudd quite well. Fudd's current voice sounds much like the voice Blanc provided Fudd in the rare instances Bryan was not available... which made him sound a little more punch-drunk in my opinion.

Some other favorites:

* "Hard working George" from the last presidential debate... This adds ample proof that the man repeats himself (only his request for more war funds are more annoying)...

* "ABCDEF... Cookie Monster!", probably my favorite Kermit The Frog moment. This was done in the early 70s. Kids didn't use a teleprompter. The ending is so sweet; you'll know it when you see it.

I also see more bowling videos posted - great trip down memory lane.

I only wish there were more sports shown on YouTube; that is, the non-brawl ones.

---------------------------
* Work went okay this week. I still shudder whenever I'm dispatched to Detroit for something. Some of those neighborhoods still look like fodder. Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick says there's improvement. Where? Around his office? Geez. No wonder morale in those neighborhoods are so low. And I guess I shouldn't worry if I screw something minor up. Some of these drivers are boneheads, have no respect for anyone, and tell the boss point-blank how they feel. It's not good to go to the boss point-blank for anything unless you have your safety net in place.

* Nothing definitive yet about Nicky and his eye. He's used to the patch and I guess he's deflecting criticism admirably. He's going through a lot. I only wish I could be there to help out.

* Paying rent's gonna be a circus again; nothing new.

* And I think it's close to being time for me to get that severance check from Spirit that I was promised, in exchange for not working the two-week notice off. Damn, wish I had some visual evidence... but all I think I'll get is a run-around. Suffice it to say though that this is one issue I will not let die on my watch.

You don't know what you got...

I made it a priority after work today to check on Dawn, following the events I described in the previous post. Now add to that the fact that Irene (her grandmother) has just been released from the hospital and now must rely on Hospice care, and everyone knows what that means, symbolically at least.

Now everyone in that family seems to be crawling out of the woodwork, saying my gosh, where has the time gone, and what's happened to her? Being a neighbor for four years, I know what's been going on with her. I always try to check on her at least once a month. I'm only a neighbor. Where's her extended family been all this time?

Dawn now has the role of my late mother in 1989-1991, when she was literally the sole caregiver for her mother, afflicted with Alzheimers. She may have gotten help from her brother and his wife, but that was it. There was a big family split in the late 1960s between my grandmother and her younger brother which cut everyone in half. We didn't expect to hear from the adversaries, but what about the ones who didn't split off back then, and what about their offspring?

My grandmother was the matriarch of her family back then. In many cultures, the matriarch or patriarch are revered. My mother should have had more than part time help from two people. I would have done more if I knew how to work with an Alzheimers patient.

My mother spent more time at her mother's house than she did at ours. It was a lifting of a burden for her that I was 19 years old at the time and could be trusted at home alone, with my father working afternoons. And my mother didn't cut her hours at her job, either; it was straight from Dearborn to Wyandotte. I might have seen her an hour a day at our house. And even when we hired Roma to be the full-time housekeeper over there, my mother was there every day. Everyone else? When it was convenient for them.

I harbor no regret now. It's been sixteen years since grandma's passing. The hurt has healed also because the family just split up permanently; everyone picked up their balls and left. No arguments could possibly take place if the combatants weren't in the "ring". It was just a feeling of resignation my mother felt about a year into the ordeal; she was thankful for help, but she knew better than to expect a consistent effort from supporting members of the family, and that was a damn shame.

The minute Grandma hit Hospice and was near death, then we starting hearing from her friends at the church, at the Polish Club, and elsewhere. The funeral home and service turnouts were astoundingly huge. Grandma had a lot of people who loved her.

But where were they when my grandmother was going through the worst of it at home? You could count it on one finger: my mother.

Now Dawn takes care of her grandmother more than her own Mom does. Relatives are there now for brief visits. I've been here four years, and I've never seen any of them before. This means Irene's visitors list is very small, and like it was sixteen years ago... a damn shame.

Does this paint the picture of family who really cares, or family who turns out just to fulfill a basic, bare-bones committment?

Dawn knows Steve and I have her back if she needs it. I hope she goes one step above my mother and demands it from those who need to provide it.

The first week takes time

It's the end of a grueling first week at the new job. All I can say is, put some of these 60-hour weeks on a long consecutive streak, and the minute this job gets replaced by a typical 8-hour job, I can say "8 hours, that's all?" That would have improved my outlook for overtime at my airport job, but thankfully that's all in the past.

Turns out my strengths on knowing streets still sticks with Downriver. Almost six months after stating here that I don't know the businesses within a mile of my house (after four years), I STILL don't know them. It turns out I don't know businesses, and some side streets either. Luckily enough, I bought a good street map of Wayne County, so all I have to do is look things up, in lieu of one of those $400 GPS systems. Truth be known, all cab and limo companies need those things. I remember my last college exam was in a GPS class, where the technology was just starting. It's come a long way since and is so localized... the technology is just amazing.

I probably had one or two so-so passengers out of the fifty-plus I carried this week, which is not a bad ratio at all. I'm sure I'll get some regular fares along the way who will get to know me, so that won't be a problem. But to come in out of the blue and have that ratio be as good as it was, it bodes for a good start.

Tuesday I raked in more than I would at an average day at the airport! Hopefully there will be more good days like that.

If the house and its condition weren't falling behind before, it certainly is now, however. I get "car lag" very easily and after I get home, I usually talk to Jenni and then plop down for the night. I have sane days off for once (Saturday/Sunday) and will have to get the household stuff done during that time. Steve is planning on working more off-days so he can hit the Phillipines later this month... hopefully the house doesn't get in too bad a shape.

I'm worried about Dawn's son Tyler, who's getting a little overly-aggressive in the way he talks to his family, and specifically the way he handles his little brother Dylan. It seems like he's changed overnight, that aggression he was holding suddenly became uncaged. It doesn't appear that Dawn saw this coming, and she's still reeling from the shock. I think Tyler needs some coping skills and more avenues for which to channel his anger -- his brother is NOT the place to start.

And laundry is once again getting to be a real un-fun chore. The new plastic PVC pipe trap in the floor is jammed as well, so we'll have to resort to the portable tub again. The landlord will say "I told you so", but fact is, when I placed a screen on the discharge pipe, it bubbled up through a trap and soaked the carpet anyway. Hopefully snaking the drain out doesn't become routine; one snake out can cost over $100 per visit according to an estimate. I was like "whoa! Snaking out should only cost $40..."

Uh, that was in the 1980s, Kev.

New job starts tomorrow!

Before heading out to Elizabeth Park in a few hours, just wanted everyone to know that I got a new job at Metro Express Cab Company which begins tomorrow.

Some of the iffy parts of my former cab job in 2001 are still there: 60 hour work weeks, and if you're standing waiting for a fare, you're not paid by the hour. I certainly hope it's a bit different than '01 was, where I had to live off the tips and bring home a weekly paycheck that rarely exceeded $110.

But obviously, I became more schooled in personal public relations between then and now. The owner's father-in-law was sold on me from the very beginning, and said he campaigned months to get me on board. Unfortunately for now, it has to be as a driver, and I wisely made the decree that I go to day shift. Developing night blindness (which is something my late mother had) results in an inability to see street sign and house number details too well. True, I could circle around several times, but why look like an idiot when I don't have to?

Potential fares need not worry however; the night blindness doesn't affect my ability to see where I'm going - unless it rains. Another reason to go day shift!

At this rate, my body could use a sit-down job. True, it's still not in my career field and it's not in a cubicle either, but sitting down is sitting down. Plus, you meet all sorts of people, and variety plays a huge role in my liking of a job. I get bogged down by never-ending routines from punch-in to punch-out.

Wish me luck, everyone!

Carnival 2007

The odds this year worked perfectly. With a semi-decent car at my disposal and in-between jobs, there was no scheduling conflict this year: I just finished four days of full duty at the church festival calling bingo yesterday.

It's amazing in a church community that people don't forget who you are, even if you're not there in the twelve months between festivals. Why the general community as a whole can't share this friendliness is beyond me, but since there is a huge church vs. state thing as we all know, I won't plunge into an argument.

Training for callers was on Thursday. Everyone who tried did well. Bingo chair Rachelle said I didn't need to go up there to prove my worth, so I didn't even have to try out.

Unfortunately, bingo was not too well attended this year, which has been a problem. Even with the added hour from 1-2 PM, it didn't make much of a difference in the bottom line. Going as a spectator in the early 1980s, when they still allowed kids to sit at the tables and at least play with the chips, I recall $100 first prizes on coveralls by nighttime. This year, the highest amount I remember was $60. Still, it got oooos and ahhhhs from the audience. What's happened to the value of the dollar anyway?

Oh yeah... see "US Economy" on google for more...

Only one real "incident" in the three days I called... someone shouted out "bingo" at the wrong time, and I was quick to catch it. Even Rachelle told me later she would never have caught that. The rule is, when you get bingo, you have to shout it out before the next number is called. Otherwise, it's the "you snooze, you lose" mantra. Maybe because it took place on church grounds, the ruling was accepted without any further problems... nice to see when we look at the lack of tolerance in today's society.

Aunt Lori made it down there and we had lunch in the entertainment tent. She was not happy at all with me losing the airport job, and it took ten minutes of explanation to calm her down. She's just worried about my welfare, but I told her things would take care of themselves.

Over the years, musical bands that play there have received tepid audience reaction. Especially since the Polish bands have become scarce (I'm sorry; when I think "festival" I think of Polish bands), nobody gets a standing ovation anymore. I heard a great ovation for the group today and I said "man, I haven't seen a group get this much support since the Polka Towners of the 1980s." Turns out, under a different banner, these WERE the Polka Towners of old. In the 80s when they played, they were very festive. EVERYONE stopped at that tent at the close of the festival to watch them play "God Bless America", followed by a strobe-light show. And I mean EVERYONE attended. How nice to see them back, with the audience enthused like they used to be. They set a standard for that festival that is still there today. They even have small clips of their playing on YouTube, and they have a website devoted to their history here.

Unfortunately, my troublesome hip took the joy out of my final day there, which I had to cut short. But still, a very good four days. And the car chipped in with cooperation too! Can't ask for much more.

And plans are in the works for me, Jenni and the kids to go to Elizabeth Park in Trenton this coming weekend. I've finally understood the need to convert from "all work and no play", a challenge I am accepting with relish!

Pruned by natural means

This was the damage done to the Branford Pear Tree in my backyard, within five feet of my south bedroom window, recently. No wind, no downpour, no tornado... we just had a light mist falling all night. I heard a whoosh about 2 AM and figured it might have been paper falling off the cabinet in my room. Steve came out that morning and said "how did the weed (growing alongside the deck at that time) grow half-way across the yard?"

Simply put, I was amazed that this branch, 5" in diameter and nearly 20 foot tall when stood up, only grazed the house. It didn't damage the window or the siding, and didn't even affect the window air unit in my window at the time. This branch was the main offshoot from the trunk and comprised 30% of the tree foilage.

Countless times, I remember smacking my head on it when trying to mow the lawn, while saying "that branch needs to be sheared off." If that's exactly the words I used, there really is such a thing as a genie, because it did shear off... allbeit roughly.

It took nearly two weeks to find the utensils needed to clean up from this spot (amazingly, no grass died). It is still in holding on the side of the house, waiting for the landlord to dispose of it.

I had an estimate for a clearing of the branches earlier, and I was amazed at the guy's attitude. He looked at me like I was the last on Earth to know that Branford Pears had a rough time this year with splitting at the trunk. This was not news to him, but hello -- this tree has not plastered the cover of Home & Garden magazine, has it?

In spite of its low clearance, it has been a good shade tree. I only hope that it doesn't go through shock between now and next spring - there is a pretty nice gash in the trunk - to where it will need to be replaced next season.

In flight, far from the airport!

Drum roll please...

I FINALLY HAVE LEFT THE AIRPORT!!!!!

Yes, six years of drama has finally been completed - I am no longer employed at that bitch of a job. And I can say with confidence that although it has given me stability on a resume, and I put all my effort into that job, this move was long overdue.

"Fan reaction"? All positive, even from my father. One of the reasons I held onto the job for so long (and I've told him this) is that dad looked at me in a very disappointed light in 2000 when I left Calder's for the first time after just three months. It was one of those cases where I lit into the boss and left. He basically told me that wasn't the right way to do things. That is known fact; the way he presented it, however, stuck with me.

I wanted to prove him differently, and I believe I did. Dad worked in the same place for 30 years, though... I only put in six years at Spirit. But this day and age, a person's not going to last for 30 years in one location too often. The average person changes jobs over nine times in a lifetime. My dad had it good because he lived in a time where job security was virtually guaranteed. Times have changed, and I think between 2000 and now, he understands that.

Though he and I don't talk too much, his support still means a whole lot and always will.

But let's go ahead and set the stage for the final confrontation which happened last night:

I had an hour break between flights, so I figured I'd go chat with Lisa. I always scan the watch wherever I am and I'm always aware of where I'm supposed to be. Then, Dianne from baggage came to me and said the rampers were looking for me, that I'm supposed to be out there. What, 45 minutes before the plane? I bid Lisa adieu and went back out there.

Turns out they rotated crews and threw my crew on a new plane five minutes before it landed. If you're told you've got an hour break, what do you do? Some go to the concessions. Some go outside to smoke or walk around. I decide to talk to a friend. And whereas some crews miss people when flights are rescheduled, and don't complain about it... oh, when I'M missing, they virtually send TSA out to look for me. Doesn't this hearken to my July entry about management having it in for me?

What blame could I take? None, other than sincerely apologizing for missing this detail, though questioning why we only get five minutes' notice. I even had the two-way radio and heard nothing. But the gate lead wouldn't even give me a chance to explain and initiated a tirade that ended up being two workers shouting at each other. There's two sides to every story, and I wasn't being heard. A six-year worker against a two-year worker should have some pull for me.

Guess not.

The supervisor was working the flight, and after the argument, I told him I was finally done due to this blatant disrespect. He told me to write a letter of intent, and after the flight was offloaded, I did so. He fired it off to the station manager and I went on my business, not telling anyone what I'd done (a two-week notice).

Hearken the July entry again: Finishing up the last flight, I was told to come into the supervisor's office, where the supervisor told me of the reply from the station manager: I would get the two weeks' severance pay, but that I would not be working for it. In other words, I would be paid to stay home.

Lol, I really loved that idea, and at the same time my mind was satisfied and at peace, knowing that six years of saying they had it in for me was true, after all. What a bunch of peons. They escorted me out, took my equipment, wished me luck, and closed the door behind me.

THANK GOD! That's all I can say. And here I am, making this entry, shaking a little in the legs, realizing not only the actual decision to leave was made, but the scope of how important it will be to me, given everything that's happened since 2001.

I look forward to the disintegration of Spirit Airlines in the forthcoming years, especially with me not there. I wasn't prepared to be the anchor of the sinking ship in this instance. And I won't be.

Mid-August: an update

Thought I'd log on real fast (on my sixth anniversary of my hiring at Spirit) to let you know everything is still the status quo at work. It's getting harder to walk around and I find I'm doing things at a much slower pace than even I'm used to, but the work's getting done nonetheless.

I'm still devoting too much time to sleeping, I think. Sleep patterns are still scattered and my dreams are more warped than ever. They always have been, and no one knows why. The most annoying thing that happens in every dream I have, is that I can be anywhere, doing anything, and all of a sudden a taxiing plane crosses my path in much the same way a black cat can cross your path. All of a sudden, I find myself wearing a uniform and doing some menial airline task.

Sheesh, I do one better than bring my work home with me: I bring it into my DREAMS.

My housekeeping skills are suffering. You should have seen when I lived at my grandmother's in 2000. One basement flood aside, the place was as pristine while I was there as my grandmother kept it for years. You'd never know when I'd break out the vaccum and clean the carpet... 10 PM, 2 AM, it didn't really matter.

Now I'm starting to look at this house, and for the first time, its sheer size is getting to me. Seems pathetic when you consider this house is only 800 square feet, while my parents' was 1,700. Then again, at my parents' house, you had three people working to make sure things were in order. I'm cleaning for two as I may have said before -- and even Jenni's kids do more to try to help at their house than Steve does here. Mostly, it's been dirty dishes. Overall, it's becoming overall filth. In lieu of hiring a maid service, I wonder where the housecleaning help will come from.

The landlord likes us as tenants because, among other reasons, we do a great job keeping the place up. I hate to fall back on my reputation, but it's just getting too hard. At least at the apartment in Dearborn, I didn't have to worry about yardwork.

The car is still acting up the same way it was; I hate it when it stalls out of its own accord. However, I make it work by using it as solely a work car only. Seventeen miles round-trip per day plus a trip to the gas station every once in awhile is all I need it to do. If it works even seven times out of ten, consider myself fortunate.

And in trying to add some spice to my life, I find procrastination is getting in the way of that, too. The church festival (where I call bingo) is three weeks away, and I've found I've done little to try to get my name on the duty roster.

I wish for a different routine. This is the way it's been for six years. Is it just overt tolerance, or is it a fear of change, given the way this world is turning out lately? I wish I knew.

Motivation -- everywhere

Why am I sticking at that job even through all the crap that has happened?

One reason:

Here's my angel with her suddenly blonde hair... I like it.

But back to motivation: Everyone needs perks to succeed. Sports players do it with money. CEOs do it with severance packages, ha ha. I truly had no one on my side at that airline through all these years. Now, Jenni is giving me the strength and support I need to carry this thing through. Where it will all go and how long this latest injury-filled work time will last is known to no one.

But the real motivation is there for the first time. While not allowing myself to let myself down in the face of all the stupidity I've faced, I won't allow myself to let this lady down.

Geez, I only wish I could update this blog more frequently than I am...

Forseeing a break

Yes I know - a two-week gap between entries. Unfortunately that may become the rule more these days.

Work is absolutely killing me. Nearly six years of working in the bagroom have been thrown out the door, and now I work outside no matter what the weather conditions. After a relatively dry spring, it's been raining lately, so I figured I'd pony up the $25.00 and get me a half-way decent raincoat.

It worked twice... the first time, everyone called me crazy for just standing out there, daring the skies above to rain on me harder (shades of Steve and his "you call this a STORM?" routine). But on the third day of rain last week, the raincoat bottom rips to shreds when I board the transport tug. If anything, I'd rather wear the bottoms than the top since I don't like rainwater squishing around my shoes and socks.

Now I found out last night someone broke into my locker and took the top. What's the alternative? A custom-made garbage bag.

The cheapness of my company is astounding. They're cutting costs at EVERY inconceivable turn, and they've never provided raincoats as part of the uniform. Why not? The job description clearly states "be able to work in any threatening weather condition". They begrudgingly give us a snowsuit in the winter, which we have to pay 25% out-of-pocket for, of course. It rains quite a bit in Michigan, why not make the workers a little more comfortable, and a little less waterlogged?

My sleep patterns have become even more erratic these days since I know I'm on thin ice attendance-wise (which as I said is unfair), so between that, work itself, and trying to play catch-up on the house during my down time, I don't have much time right now to devote to the blog. I am hoping that something will change that in the near future.

Let's throw him an attendance number

There has GOT to be some sort of conspiracy going on here to get me out of Spirit Airlines. That thought has never been too far from my mind since the day I hired in.

How could bad feelings have festered before I even started work there? You be the judge of what went down in the months leading up to the hiring, and please TELL ME where I may have messed up...

I was juggling jobs in 2000, where I worked as a dispatcher and a porter at Woodhaven Lanes. Woodhaven was an on-call - the dispatcher job was only 30 hours per week. I needed the security of one full-time job that could guarantee me 40 hours per week. Spirit provided it, and I figured since I was lugging stacks of seven milk crates with a metal rod around the plant, I could likely handle bags and build some sort of physique, which would be good emotionally as well.

Spirit had an interview set up with me back in October of that year. I ended up reneging and telling Mike that things were coming along better, particularly with the promise of more hours at the bowling alley. He said "okay," like nothing happened.

Then, four jobs came and went over the span of seven months, heightened by that move to Tami's house which triggered immense financial pressure. When I lost the job at Downriver Cab, I had no place to go. So breaking a silence I had with Mike since the move five months earlier, I called him up. His reluctance to put me through to Spirit a second time was blatantly obvious. This time, I figured, I stood a better chance of sticking with it; there was no safety net in place to where I could fall back on.

Through the years there, I've heard rumblings that Mike, as well as one of the supervisors, were actually placing bets on how long I would last there. Six months seemed to be the going rate, as far as I knew. From time to time, I've brought that up when work comes to a head, but it's always been denied. Apparently, one supervisor overruled the other three "nay" votes and put me to work in August 2001.

It was rather ironic that the lone dissenting supervisor in this case lost his OWN job four months later amid a drinking binge.

Now I'm back to work after a long layoff and that fingerprint mess. My second day in, I'm called to see the new ramp manager, Cari. She sets me down and says that I need perfect attendance for the next four months... absolutely perfect attendance... no call offs due to life threatening illnesses either... or I will be terminated on the spot.

They recently switched to a point attendance system versus a step attendance system that I was used to. According to Cari, I re-entered work on the Step 3, one next to termination. Funny thing is, I was never served paperwork for Step 3 my whole time there! Until dipshit doctor came around and said I should win acting awards, Spirit accepted my injury whole-heartedly, workers comp notwithstanding. Nobody told me I should think about coming in because my attendance was at risk. No warnings... nothing.

I looked at Cari and said "I'll do my best, but I'm not guaranteeing anything." I left it at that and ran off in a huff down to the ramp.

True honesty is missing in this world. It's hidden under masks. If they really don't like me (which I know they don't), and want me out, why don't they just TELL me?

I'm there to work... not to play games. And by the way, if you were in my shoes, you would say without a doubt the past five months were no game.

How many 180s can you do?

Would someone please be so kind as to direct me to where I need to go next?

As it is (for at least the next 10 minutes), I am slated to return to work tomorrow. Guess who was the last to find out about it? Me, of course. Work already knew and expected me to come in. Where was the phone call from work, or corporate, or the clinic itself telling me? It's obviously a good thing that I do follow-up work and make calls. If I were a total deadbeat, my work call would come and go without me knowing it.

In a span of two hours roughly, I was told I was on my own for the situation, and promptly was ready to call a lawyer to help dispute the rejection from Saturday. Then it turns out I come in tomorrow... then I was told to report for duty in "20 minutes" (meaning today)... then oops, we looked at the wrong shift slot, tomorrow is still good... then, why are you plotting to come back to work so soon? We need fingerprints... and scheduled them for tomorrow without informing me.

Goodbye lawyer idea, and goodbye apparently to the validity of the dispute. It wouldn't be worth its weight in gold. Being that I'll be at work tomorrow, doesn't that deflate the case by itself?

I've noticed in recent weeks that gray hair on me is not an afterthought. Granted, I wear my hair longer these days, so the streaks are more apparent. But that's the point: they are. Not just a few hairs, but a couple strands on my right side. I can't argue the fact they've been earned in the last several years.

But today I played the ping-pong ball, as my situation did so many 180s in a 2-hour span that I exasperated Mike, and probably confused poor Jenni beyond belief. And that's been part of the physical problems this injury has provided: if I need to do a 180 degree turn, it has to be in stages: head & neck, feet, then the hip area.

Okay, so they say that I'm 110 percent and ready to go. Everyone I know disputes that; nevertheless it looks like I've run out of ammo to boost my case, which I swear is LEGITIMATE.

The only thing I can say now is that it could possibly be arthritis. But isn't arthritis more persistent and steady, rather than coming or going in various degrees?

Just let me call the entire scenario this year a severe case of arthritis until I find out more. Fred Sanford would have been proud, believe me.

Therapies & checks at an end

Just returned from another over-nighter to St. Clair Shores - each night over there is proving to be better & better.

And boy, did I need "better & better" since yesterday afternoon. Worker's compensation has officially cut me off. Now I am in a quandary as to what to do next.

Enclosed with the official "notice of dispute" was the copy of the independent examination. First off, my official measurements are 5 ft. 11, 195 lbs. Do you consider this to be "slightly obese", even though normal men my height are usually about 190 lbs.? I treated this with some humor the past two days, even though it initially insulted me on a personal level. I always say I don't have the body of Atlas, but c'mon.

Later in the report, it implied that I'd make a great Academy Award winner, which is just their way of saying I've faked the whole thing. Friends and relatives close to me know this isn't the case. What the doctor cited was when I tried to do a heel-toe exercise without putting much force on my hands, gripping the examination table.

Now there's always been a problem with balance if a surface can't be used for bracing. My feet aren't the strongest. And there's still some noted weakness in the left foot. It took me awhile to set up for this exercise, granted. The last thing I wanted to do was fall on my face from losing balance, and getting ridicule from the doctor. Plus, I wanted to do this exercise to the best of my ability. A few weeks ago, the realization came that the longer I was on worker's comp., which doesn't take money out for taxes, the more taxes I will have to pay come April 15th of next year. The motivation is there to succeed.

But I can't help it if some prepratory measures are needed to do the exercise right. When you can't trust the lower half of your body to follow through with proper execution due to pain or numbness, you don't want to set yourself up for automatic failure.

I understand that the function of an independent doctor is to make observations and judgements without showing bias, and without prior judgement. But he was taking notes just like my regular clinic doctor does - this one even made some of the same comments. Now it comes out into the open that he's basing things on reports saying there was nothing blatantly abnormal. There is a grey area here. You have "abnormal" and "normal", but isn't there a medium known as a "potential trouble spot"? So much for a doctor/patient relationship! I'm not sure I would have wanted one with this doctor, since the facts are known.

So what's the likelihood of me going back to work? Pretty much better than 50-50. I'll find out the next business day, which is tomorrow, and see whether his diagnosis is seen as just an opinion, or the deciding factor.

There's something about the "deciders" in this world that's really bugging me now.

"You forgot today's date"

(And now that I do know, happy birthday Rosemarie!)

I forgot today's date though, until the last moment. But the car never forgets, apparently.

Coming home from St. Clair Shores today, I blew out my left front tire on Eight Mile Rd. just past the notorious Woodward Ave. bridge that rapper Eminem made famous in his movie. It only took half a second after the KA-POW for me to realize that meant me. My concerns of Wednesday made themselves known only two days later - my likely luck.

Complete, sheer panic never set in, but the butterflies were obvious. I wanted to veer right to turn off Eight Mile, but I was in the left lane and needed to go left - right into Northwest Detroit, lovely. The first thing I wondered was how the heck I managed to navigate Eight Mile yesterday. On that road at 3PM, you're either on it, or can't get on it. I have not seen massive traffic like that in years.

After spending ten minutes in a turnaround, I flopped my car into a neighborhood, gathered my wits (which were likely lying with the remaining tire rubber on Eight Mile), and walked (and survived) a three-block jaunt to the gas station. You know, you really can't call them service centers anymore. What gas station, heaven forbid, even has a repair bay in the building now? I lamented the loss of full-service gas fillups years ago, and now you don't even have a mechanic handy on street corners.

Prior to the last couple days, the last time I ventured on Eight Mile was nearly six years ago, so I knew of no place to go. And Speedy Muffler across the street seemed to fix everything except tires. So I had to chance going to a foreign place with a foreign wrecker in what is NOT known as God's country. It actually turned out pretty good; in fact I may go back to that station next week to get another tire replaced on it - only ran me $26 for a replacement.

I laughed as I thought to myself that the worst-case scenario was that I still had five hours of daylight left before I started needing bodily defense. So I stood for an hour at Eight Mile and Livernois, amazed at the amount of car horns and near-miss accidents that took place (four in ten minutes).

But the toll placed on your nerves driving from Garden City to St. Clair Shores is never-ending. I didn't want to take Eight Mile on Wednesday, so I took Nine Mile. That took an hour on that street alone; 35 minutes to travel five miles. Two lanes, 25 MPH, stop-and-go, with four construction sites. Then I ended up travelling the wrong way down Harper Ave. and just missed being pushed onto I-94, which would have been curtains for the car and its no-highway designation (oh, don't worry -- Harper was not one-way, I just turned the wrong way to find the right side street); hence the reason I couldn't take the quicker route via freeway.

The car also doesn't seem to relish being driven more than 25 minutes at a time; either the transmission seems to slip or the engine dies out. That happened yesterday while doing 35 on the center thru lane on Eight Mile. Thank goodness the truck behind me was most understanding. I could not pass due to the traffic volume, so I choked my embarassment and started the car up on the fly again. That's the goofy thing: it starts right up and picks up where it left off. Earlier, it died on me on Telegraph near I-96, so I took it to a "service center", started it two minutes later, and on my merry old way I went.

But forgetting today's date? Friday the 13th. What a double whammy: I leave Jenni to go back home, and on this day of all days. It's laughable, of course... now that I'm home safe.

Reflections of the visit (which were first-rate) follow.

Wednesday ramblings

Sitting here today as I plan to take what might be a 70-mile round trip to see Jenni and meet her three kids in St. Clair Shores today:

* My neighbor Irene has been in the hospital again since Sunday - and this was only found out last night because I went outside to roll my car windows up. What bugs me about this is the fact I was literally chewed out by her granddaughter for not having guessed this was the case.

At any one time, nine different people could be in and out of that house on any given day... many of them on a "shift"-type visit schedule. Many times, you can set your weekday watch by which car is in her driveway. With me suffering off-and-on with an unseasonably late allergy attack this week, the back and hip ailing, and with heat indexes approaching triple-digits, I've done my best to stay in my room for the week.

We know each other as genuinely good neighbors, and I know we would do whatever it takes to help the other in case of need. But for Irene to be in the hospital for breathing problems for the third time in six months (critical but stable condition), don't you think they would knock on our door to let us know? The massive amounts of cars & people that come by there wouldn't give a clue that something was amiss.

I care very much for Irene's welfare, and at age 87 she's going to have continued problems. Every time she comes home safe, I tell her granddaughter, "if anything happens, let us know." Each time she has gone back, we've only found out perchance when Steve or I went outside for something. If they see the car here, they should feel free to knock. We can't guess what's going on if the traffic levels next door don't change.

* Forgot to mention a concern that was relieved two weeks ago when I thought the local grocery store stopped carrying the Calder brand of milk. Their cooler was stacked six doors full of store-brand milk. Had they lost the contract with the grocery company, which would cripple their bottom line? Or had the bottom line been erased already?

Word is in: Calder Dairy is still alive and well... and only the Kroger by me discontinued the deliveries - because of an irritable stockroom manager who wanted to sue the company for milk over 39 degrees. Contrary to what happened to me in 2001 when I subbed on route delivery for Calder's, the milk was standard at 36 degrees. Calder's manager obviously thought that the Kroger manager was too overbearing. If he was the same person I saw in 2001, I'll happily drive a little further for my milk fix - they made the right decision to stop delivery.

In closing: Captain Kirk said it best in one of the Star Trek movies: "May fortune favor the foolish." Will I be a fool for travelling 15 miles down Eight Mile Road, hugging the north Detroit border? Stay tuned to find out.

"Ugliest car" reinvented

Well, before I show you the "ugly", allow me to show the "cute" in life, courtesy of Jenni's youngest daughter Cheyanna:

Isn't she precious in this shot, taken earlier today at the Willow Run Airport Air Show? She's wearing a sticker she plastered on her head, a sticker for an animal charity that Jenni supports, and Chey loves animals. Needless to say, removal of this sticker was a bit painful, so I was told.


Now that I've dolled you all up on the nice things in life, back to the title of the article.


Up to today, there are two cars whose designs I have historically considered to be totally ugly:

The Volkswagen Type 2 (T2) "Transporter"...

... and the Chrysler PT Cruiser (which I dub a funeral hearse)

Lo and behold, from the same civilization that provided fake and unbearably ugly "city" facades on certain Meijer's stores, here comes the latest design from Honda: the "Element":

As in, which of these elements are not like the others?

Since when has a boxy car been cool again? Grown-ups lament about the return of bell-bottoms as a fashion trend... I thought boxy cars were gone in the early 1980s with the advent of aero-dynamic cars with smoother curves and more pleasant appearances.

It seems as if they're back again, bent on outdoing the Type-2 VW. This picture is only passable to me because of the angle it's taken at. The one I saw at Krogers an hour ago I saw from the left rear - you want to talk about industrial-strength hearse? It's as if a king-sized set of Lego bricks acquired an engine and motored out of the kids' bedroom (as we know, Legos cannot be claimed as aero-dynamic in looks, so you get the picture).

Who on God's green earth would want to drive one of these, let alone be proud of owning one? I saw this one, and I swear I nearly bumped into the cart corral.

I guess the moral of this one for the failed art students in the world is this: you've got a shot to make up for past failures!

"You-Tubed"

I didn't even know we had the technology. And given what's come up since the technology was discovered, I'm glad I've not made use of it.

Steve was browsing YouTube today, and found a video that really irritated him: an editorial on Chris Benoit that raised his ire for how it was presented: disrespectful towards Benoit's immediate family who were killed, and disrespecting even towards the video viewers. I made the comment "don't we wish we had the technology to go on YouTube?" Turns out we do, so Steve made a video admonishing the editorial he had viewed.

And then made another video. And another.

And still another.

I'm a regular visitor to YouTube, and I watch the videos, usually ignoring the comments. The comments on Steve's first rebuttal video were the inspiration for the other videos. Never in my life have I seen a group of people united to bring Steve down for even showing up on the internet. Ninety percent of the comments included vulgar language towards Steve, his family, his new wife, everything. Three-fourths of them were just direct criticism of Steve alone; Benoit having being forgotten. The hate has been so rancid, it doesn't even bear repeating in this space, let alone even linking to the videos themselves.

Whether or not Benoit's death has ignited so much of this negative passion remains to be seen. I can't say for a fact that the bulk of YouTube people are jerks, either... I just watch videos, I don't look up who provided them.

True to the person he is, though, Steve can be accused of fanning the flames a little: after trying to reason with some of those people, he ended up speaking their language. It was funny to an observer like me, but not funny when you think about the state of humankind as a whole.

When I found out we had the technology to produce videos, I thought, "Cool! I can upload my old sports show tapes from the 1990s, even put together a 'vlog' of baseball reflections."

But if I've just witnessed my potential audience, I'll let Steve keep the technology to his computer... and my eyes and silent thoughts to my computer.

No fireworks today

Today was the day of the Wyandotte Independence Day parade, and I went there for the second straight year to watch my aunt march for a group of hers.

I had planned a whole day with her and my Aunt Pat, one who I don't see too often. Unfortunately, the fireworks fizzled in the form of communication lapses, and I was never able to get with them. About the only benefit of the day was the fact that my car made the 20-mile round trip flawlessly, which bodes well for future long travels.

This year, my aunt was more in the center of the parade versus being the third-from-the-last group, which meant I was in & out of there in an hour. I didn't get a chance to see the Windsor Optimist musical group, who always sound great, and I almost missed the chance to see the Roosevelt High School marching band in action as well. I only caught them because I made two trips to the drop-off area to search for my aunts.

They were playing their own patriotic rendition of "Battle Hymm", and I can only say this: having marched for four years with the old Wyandotte-based Royal Lancers Drum Corps., they did it better, pure and simple. It's hard to describe from a musical standpoint. While Roosevelt's version was more preppy and sophisticated, the Lancers' version was more from the soul. Roosevelt looked like it was just reading sheet music. The Lancers, bless them, knew the music by heart through constant practices, and they were a fan favorite in all the years of marching the parade.

My time spent marching (three years in the honor squad) passed too quickly before the organization was disbanded. But the parade in Wyandotte always brings back great memories of my marching days, where you listened and cared about the music like it was a part of you.

Too bad my aunts weren't part of my day this year. Maybe next year.

And oh yes... you may have noticed: no complaints in the blog this year about illegal fireworks or their blatant mis-use and over-use. There's no point in beating a dead horse.

My stance on them hasn't changed, but no one is going to make these people stop chancing injuring themselves foolishly. This year in the neighborhood was even worse, as both Steve & I swore we heard a couple of M-100s exploded right by us. There was no observance of these activities by authorities, simply because they had no overtime budget for the officers. Another result of the flaggling Michigan economy, whose vicious circle only rotates faster and deeper.

Begging your un-pardon

Just a short entry today wondering whether everyone would agree that President Bush has the wrong type of compassion.

Did it surprise anyone that he did away with the prison sentence for former Cheney aide Scooter Libby? Bush's words were that the penalty was too severe, too harsh, undeserved. He says he may even issue a full pardon for Libby, which basically says according to the government, you've done nothing wrong.

See the late Richard Nixon for an example.

Bush has gone far enough with the abuse of power and his "timely" use of executive privledge. I know his oft-mentioned, off-the-cuff comment of "this job would be a lot easier... if I was the dictator" was only that: off-the-cuff. It's reality, I think.

Sometimes I wonder if the president has all his marbles. I won't be afraid to admit I was hospitalized in 2005 having lost some marbles -- but even under the influence of the most direct and intense training I received there, I would have been able to point out the wrongdoing.

Sports players need to take drug screens. Grade-school teachers are well-served with child psychology courses. Government officials have to pass multi-year background checks.

What physical, emotional and mental aptitude tests did this man need to pass, or even take?

One reason I would never go for the top office in the land is the simplest: Everyone's history is examined and everyone's skeletons are either dusted off or made up. The pundits would shout, "Kevin, what's this 2005 hospitalization all about?? There's no WAY you would ever be fit for office! What if you suffer a relapse during a time of national crisis?" I can tell you that's what would happen without even having run for a council seat before.

You have to allow for errors, given the president's military history and the documents which caused Dan Rather an unplanned retirement. Maybe his own gut executive privledge got him through those rough spots.

But is he really ALL there? All we have is the track record, and that, in fact, should speak for itself.

Discounting into oblivion

In an effort to clear out my email inbox, I placed a few "spam filters" into the account. The past two weeks, I can't begin to count the number of emails whose subject line was "Hi", then once opened, gives you a discounted price on Viagara, on-line purchases only.

The sea of spam never ends, despite what government says they will do about it (do-not call lists, busting spam factories, etc.).

So I don't get too much in my inbox anymore, except for the airline I work for - they send about five emails per week showing their super-discounted rates. Not wanting to spell out the company's name first-hand; all you'll need to know is that they were the ones who promoted the "find Jimmy Hoffa" on-line game. They may also be promoting their eventual demise with the outrageous prices they give their flights.

An $8 sale? A one cent sale? This week, that's right, you can go to Ft. Lauderdale from Detroit for $16.00 round-trip.

I wonder who the airline is going to hear it from first: The passengers, the workers, or the government?

I'm a worker, so they'd hear it from me first. And regular blog readers are all too familiar with the story as I've outlined it the past year. In a January meeting, there was a faint glimmer of hope that maybe 2007 would be the year we'd get a raise. In any event, we'd know by May.

May has come and gone without word on either side. Workers haven't been told yes or no. Yet any worker with half a brain will probably guess that their 2007 salary will remain the same after more of these stupid fares keep popping up; their so-called "Happy Sales". Resulting in, as well, filled planes every hour or every day, more bags, and more upset workers.

The passengers are saying a lot, too. I came across two websites addressing airline complaints, and you won't believe the number of complaints my airline had. Rude customer service, dirty airplanes, even people that needed to board a flight to be with their mother who was having emergency surgery, they were told "too bad". Obviously it hasn't hit the passenger throngs full-force, because you'd see something in the news about a backlash against the airline.

The government would be an interesting read. I'm not sure if it's government standard or industry standard, but a couple years ago I heard where it's not good news for an airline to run up a deficit for more than seven consecutive fiscal quarters.

How will the erratic marketing and outrageously insane pricing affect their bottom line, and, their very existence?