Text mess-ages.

 

Man scammed.

ELDERLY MAN SCAMMED FOR
$3.6 TRILLION

"They Were Very Convincing," Says Befuddled Oldster

WASHINGTON, DC (March 21, 2024) -- The nation's capital witnessed another awful example of telephone scams and elder abuse, as the chief elected officer of the country was bamboozled by an artful trickster. 

"Sounded totally legit," said Mr. Joseph Biden of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. "Said they were calling from the debt service place. Well, I keep hearing about the debt this and the debt that and I was glad that I had started the old ball rolling to get that taken care of. Thought I'd just left the paperwork in Delaware or something. All they needed, she said, was the main treasury account number and some passwords, no big deal. They were very convincing." 

An estimated $3.6 trillion has subsequently gone missing from the United States treasury following this event. Mr. Biden's coworkers were quick to point out that it's not really lost, however. 

"It's not like it's real money," said Janet Yellen, who oversees the treasury for Mr. Biden. "Just a bunch of IOUs, actually. We'll just run out a few trillion on the printing presses and replace it as fast as we can get the paper."

Mr. Biden says he regrets being taken in by a hoax, and intends to find the culprit and press charges. "Sounded like an Indian fellow, or maybe Chinese," he told reporters. "Shouldn't be too hard to track down. Just check the Seven-Elevens and Chinese restaurants in the area code." When asked what area code was displayed when he received the call, he explained that it was from "someplace called Potential Spam." 

Fred: 911.

Yesterday on the Great Lileks's site, our friend Mongo posted this gem: 

I said the lady should forget it; her husband is a goner. The wise and tasteful Judge Baylor commented, "There he is ladies and gentlemen, Fred Key: World's Greatest 911 Operator!"

And indeed there is some truth to the heavily implied sarcasm. I think I would be a horrible 911 operator. Although I have sometimes managed to be cool in times of crisis, I can also get rather flustered when everyone around me is freaking out and the next right move is not obvious. Also, as a world-class catastrophizer, I have thoughts that not only leap to the worst thing possible, but beyond that to the worst thing imaginable. These are not good traits for someone manning the emergency line. 

Here's how I expect things would go on the first day: 

"911, what's your emergency? What's that? You fell off a swing set? How old are you? I dunno, you sound about thirty. And stoned. Are you stoned?"

☎🚑🚓🚒

"And where are you, ma'am? Right, corner of Watson and Smith. Hey, that's where the new pizzeria opened up, you know it? Yeah, it's really good. The stromboli is the best I've had around here. No seriously, you should try it. Just the right amount of cheese and the sauce is to die for-- What's that? Oh, yeah, send the ambulance. Hang on."

☎🚑🚓🚒

"How bad is the break? You can see the bone? Okay, hold on while I throw up in my wastepaper basket."

☎🚑🚓🚒

"Ma'am, when the ambulance arrives please tell them I'm sorry, I was supposed to send the cops. Are the people still shooting at you?"

☎🚑🚓🚒

"Yes, sir, I understand. Are you certain that he's dead? Well, can you make sure he's dead? All right, I'll hold." <gunshot> "Hey, did you call just to wrangle me into an old joke?"

About town.

Just a couple of holiday-related visions for you on this Monday morning, to give you the oomph to get through the next three days. You're welcome!

 

Bat Tree

In the dark of the morning I was walking golden Izzy, America's Sweetheart, and while he was sniffing about I did similarly with photons, which is to say I looked up into the tree with the headlamp on my forehead. There was this small Batman-themed bag, about ten feet off the ground, just hanging there like a hornet's nest. I was and am mystified by it. It looks too small to be a kid's schoolbag, too childlike to be a mom's miscellanea bag, too difficult to operate to be a Halloween candy bag, too landlubbery to be a sailor's ditty bag. What could it be? What's in it? I'll bet Catwoman is involved. She probably stole it from Bruce and got stuck up in the tree.  

Barbie vs. Minions

It's time for the gingerbread house kits again, and of course even they have to be branded now with pop culture-themed crap. I suspect there might be a Star Wars (TM) Death Star gingerbread house out there somewhere. My wife and I will have more than enough cookies around without gingerbread, but out of curiosity I asked which of these would appeal to her. She loves the Minions, but she was a Barbie girl throughout childhood, and has even made it a point to give Barbie dolls to girls whose moms were reluctant to introduce their daughters to the world of everyone's favorite toy blonde. To my surprise, though, she liked the Minions kit better. She just thinks they are a hoot.  

Early to Decor

Friday was probably the last day we'll have in the sixties for four months, so a few people around here took advantage and did their outdoor decoration. I've never seen so many people decorate for Christmas before Thanksgiving. Maybe they have in the past, but they didn't turn the lights on so I couldn't see them. 

Gator? Later

On the topic of seasonal inappropriateness: I knew exactly what this was from a ways off -- an alligator-shaped pool float. The property on which he reposed has no swimming pool. I can only suppose the wind carried him to this resting spot. People, take care of your gators and your gators will take care of you. Didn't we all learn that in first grade? 

Meanwhile, Back at the Wire

Remember this?

Two days after I put in the call, the power company got back to me. I was wrong, people! (Yes, it is possible!) This is a phone line, not a power line. Not that that makes it okay for the wire to dangle down to head level. So now I have to call the phone company. The adventure continues, and you can bet I'll milk a blog entry out of it keep you informed of further developments.  

Headin' fer the last dial-up.

Most likely, somewhere in the world right now exists the last coin-operated telephone. No one knows which one it will be. But it's out there.

Didn't make it

The coin-op telephone was invented in 1889 by William Gray of Connecticut, who was angry about having to beg someone to let him use his telephone to call a doctor for his wife. As recently as the 1980s, a friend of mine who worked in sales in Manhattan would spend time between sales calls in the lobbies of some great hotels, where he could be comfortable, organize his materials, and use the banks of public phones in a quiet atmosphere. The hotels liked having young well-dressed businessmen in the lobbies, making the place look dynamic and prosperous. That of course was long before 9/11 and COVID and institutional commie rot and everything else that has made our lives more miserable and more hollow. The last pay phone on a New York City street came down in 2022.

The miraculous cell phone is finally putting paid (ha!) to the coin-op phone, but it had a great run. Where will the last one be? Not in Germany, which in typical European fashion just decided to take all the coin-ops offline at once last year. No phasing out, as in New York. You will stop using the phones NOW! 

How did German payphones survive the hyperinflation of the Weimar Republic, when coins were basically garbage? I was unable to find out in the five minutes I devoted to the research. The article notes that Germany's public phones dated to 1881, eight years before Mr. Gray's amazing invention, so perhaps they maintained some other means of paying for calls besides coins through the 1930s.

Well, I believe there's a phone out there somewhere that will be the last coin-op in use, and whether it will succumb to the miracle of modern technology or the same ol' societal collapse that ruins so many things remains to be seen. Considering how addicted we are to our cellies, I'm not optimistic about it as a societal marker regardless. 

Ancient tech.

I was cleaning out my office on Saturday, and I came across this relic of an ancient civilization.

Ah, the old flip phone. I'm not sure when my wife finally had enough and demanded we get smartphones, but I know I was using this Samsung as late as 2013. I think it was after a trip out of state in which we were going to a wedding, and I forgot my digital camera. I bought a disposable digital camera, but I inadvertently got one without a flash. So all the pictures from the reception were deep brown; it looked like it was being held in a sewer rather than a lovely hall. The Samsung flip phone did get a few shots, but not all that great. 

Regardless, that wasn't the reason my wife pressured me into agreeing to get smartphones for us soon after. The reason was that the suits upstairs at her workplace were eliminating the company-issued Blackberrys and were going to insist employees instead use apps on their personal phones. So we got iPhones and joined the 21st century. 

One reason for my reluctance is that, six years into the smartphone era, it was already plain that those little handhelds were more addictive than even the Crackberry had been. People of weak character couldn't seem to put them down. So I knew it would happen to me. 

In related news, we may be on the brink of a much larger technological upheaval. Guess who is being born today! 

Is this true? I mean, not does The Jetsons paint an accurate picture of the near future, but was George Jetson supposed to be born on July 31, 2022? For help I turned to that prestigious scientific journal, People magazine: 

In a tweet on Thursday, fan Brendan Kergin shared a chart from the character's online fan page, which includes George's basic information, such as his dad's name Montague, his wife's name Jane and his catchphrase: "Jane! Stop this crazy thing!"

But, most importantly, Kergin highlighted George's birthday — which is said to be July 31, 2022.

The article goes on to explain that the show, which debuted in 1962, was supposed to take place in the far-flung world a century ahead, so 2062. George's age in the first season was established as 40, so the year is correct. The actual birthdate is subject to conjecture, as far as I and People know. 

Of course, the real shock is that we are six-tenths of the way to the date of the show. I don't mind not having the flying cars, but I really would like the conveyor belt that got George clean, shaved, and dressed in under a minute. 

Also, as readers know, my elder dog is called Tralfaz, after Astro's original name on the show. I'd better not find Baby Jetson coming around here trying to swipe my dog, is all I'm saying. Or his dad, Montague. Or his boy, Elroy.

Off to the doc.

I have an early appointment for a checkup today -- you know, oil pressure, engine timing, etc. Should be routine, although I expect that my weight will still be the same, sadly (must be all those pancakes-in-a-cup), and I want to talk to the doctor about the anti-neuropathy pill I'm on to prevent back pain. It makes me sleepy, as I've noted here before, and that interferes with my workday.

Not a chance in hell I'd forget my appointment. I have gotten texts from two different sources, a robocall, an email, and an email to alert me to a message on my online medical account, all to remind me of this morning's appointment. 

"Hey, see y'all at eight tomorrow!"

"You got it, Mister Doctor! See you tomorrow night!"

"Tomorrow MORNING, dummy!"

Do people really forget to go to the doctor? Do they get busy and blow it off? Or do they just chicken out? I'm not counting last-minute accidents or emergency splenectomies or anything else that would require a reschedule the day of the appointment; let's assume that in truth those account for very few unanticipated cancellations. 

It was easy enough to forget a doctor's appointment in the pre-smartphone era. Even before I started getting the harassing messages from the doctor's office last week, I was getting them from my own phone, since I'd set the appointment in the calendar with various staggered reminders. Now it's impossible to forget.

So that leaves blowing it off (rude) or chickening out (🐔). I personally come from a long line of shower-uppers, people for whom being five minutes late is a mortal sin. When we say we'll be there, we'll be there, even if you don't want us to be. However, chickening out can happen to anyone. 

We can all have some trepidation about going to the doctor, that as fit and healthy as we feel he will find some horrible unexpected illness. ("It's the creeping crud... You have three weeks to live.") For some people it's worse than nerves. Iatrophobia is a powerful and unreasonable fear of doctors or medical tests. As someone with acrophobia, I know how overwhelming phobias can be. I would recommend that anyone who knows he or she has iatrophobia tell the medical personnel at the time of the appointment. They may be able to help.

Now: Off I go on my merry way, hoping the doc finds nothing new wrong with me. Barring traffic problems I will be there. It is the way of my people. Fear is natural; rudeness is not.

Kindly read instructions.

China -- where the Chinese Death Virus has boomeranged and causing brutal lockdowns, or perhaps is providing the excuse for some kind of mob control -- has slowed a lot of its manufacturing. This is causing all kinds of financial issues, and exposing the nation's preposterous real-estate overvaluations. One source, Zero Hedge, however, suggests that China may be slowing its factories on purpose: 

What if China is purposely shutting down its country to wreak havoc on the global supply chain even further and to exert its power over the quality of lives of the western world?... What if China wants to not only exert its influence by backing its currency, but also by keeping its production means on a tighter leash: more for the benefit of its own people, and less for the benefits of Americans exporting dollars. How would China show the rest of the world in a passive, non-confrontational way, exactly just how much power they have over our quality of life?

Well, whatever it is, I hope more stuff gets made in the United States, or at least in countries where English is not quite so foreign. If so, the instructions will be much more legible. 

Here are some recent examples I've encountered where the language is not horrible, but... off. First up, an under-sink organizer:

The problem with insserting B2 and A2 is that nothing is labeled. Plus, "Assemble the combination of steps 1 and 2" as an instruction can only yield one thought:

Fortunately this little organizer is not too tricky and could be assembled without instructions if necessary. In fact, the instructions might be more of a hinderance. 

This box contained spray bottles for oil, with stinless caps and for which oil may be sprinkled for reduced calorie (as opposed to just pouring oil in the pan, which leads to more calorie). The dimensions of the bottles are interesting, but not very helpful. The sprinkling, though, is not ensure, because after a few uses the spray head had reduced the spray to a stream. I wind up using a brush to ensure pan coverage, which I could have done without the spray bottle.  

This last one isn't so bad, but it does have an attitude I see common in the promotion of electronic products from the East:

Charge fast, live more! So many things like this are sold with the promise to bring your dull, frustrating existence from the darkness of the past into the bright adventure of the future. Power quick! Go skydiving! Meet exciting people! Eat in places with cloth napkins! Don't just sit around like an idiot, waiting for your phone to charge! 

For all your Engrish needs, I recommend the Reddit site on the topic. I never thought I would recommend anything on Reddit, but times have changed. Use Reddit to snap in place shown by the arrow! Live more! 

Hidden costs.

 

Santa came early!

My new phone arrived to replace the one that baby dog Izzy broke. I'm considering it kind of a Christmas present that came early, since that helps me absolve myself from letting the little knucklehead get hold of my old phone. Yay! A present! I must have been a good boy this year!

But that was not the only present that arrived early! 

My wife didn't make any bones about it--she said, "You have to get this early so you can make your cookies." And that's today's task.

I usually don't use a mixer for baking, partly because I haven't had one in years. My mom gave us one when we got married, but it suffered a terrible, unfixable breakage that cannot be blamed on either me or the dogs or anyone else. I don't want to say who broke it, except it was my wife. So this is kind of a guilt present, I guess. 

I'm only doing two cookie recipes this year, so I don't exactly need an assembly-line production, but I do know that a mixer makes creaming butter and sugar a much easier task, so there's that. I look forward to putting this little Cuisinart beauty through its paces. 

I'll be making chocolate chip cookies and pfeffeneuse. Chocolate chip cookies may not seem very Christmassy, but they're my wife's favorite, so it's the least I can do. As for the pfeffeneuse, it's an old family recipe. Well, maybe it's someone's old family recipe. I got it out of a long-out-of-print book in the library of a publisher I worked for many moons ago. It's the only pfeffeneuse I ever tasted that could stand up to those of the great Bay Ridge Scandihoovian bakers--soft, spicy, iced, perfect. If anyone's interested, I'll post the recipe on this site.

One last note on the topic: As you enter the kitchen, tying on the ol' apron, remember the words of advice from that great lawman, Sheriff Mark Kaminski, as seen in the seminal film Raw Deal:  

The dog ate my phone.

Okay, not really, but really enough. 

I could actually blame it on the wind as much as the puppy, or on my bad back, or on my annoying friend whom I'll call Roger. But the worst thing is, it's probably my fault more than anyone or anything else's. 

Let's take it from the top. 

📱🐕

You may have thought I was kidding yesterday about baby dog Izzy eating ornaments, but I'm totally serious. There isn't much around here that he has not at least tried to bite. If you drop anything around this guy--food, tools, tissues, bottles, papers, gold Krugerrands, radioactive ingots--anything at all he will be on it before you can bend over to pick it up. He's discovering the world by biting it, one thing at a time, and he drives me batty. So no, I don't think he'd try to bite a glass ornament, but I'm not ruling it out, either. 

I mentioned last year that since my brief but wildly expensive hospitalization for crushing back pain I have been prescribed the antidepressant duloxetine, which hasn't helped my mood at all but has done wonders for the musculoskeletal pain. I've wanted to get off the drug, though, because it often leaves me very sleepy. Since I work at home I can take a nap if I absolutely must. And when the dogs are a whimpering mess or fear because of a windstorm outside all night long, you can bet there will be a nappin' come the dawn.

That's what happened on Saturday night. The boys took turns being fearful or just wakeful, and I thus had to take them out, soothe them back to sleep. So Sunday morning came, the wind eased up, and I was dying for a nap. So were the dogs. So I crashed on the sofa, as I often do.

Somewhere in there Roger called. Roger usually has little to say but chooses the most inopportune times to say it. Am I asleep? Check. On the highway? Check. On the can? Checkeroo. In the shower? Check and recheck. He's not a bad guy at all, but his timing is just terrible. So he woke me from my nap, we spoke briefly, and I went back to sleep, tucking my phone in the pocket of my sweatpants. 

OR DID I?

Because sometime later I awoke to my wife shouting and Izzy chomping away merrily on my iPhone right on the floor in front of me.

The good news is, he didn't completely break it, and he didn't get hurt. This is because I have broken a phone in the past by dropping it on the floor (yeah, real galaxy brain here) so I have an Otter Box to protect this one. The bad news is, he broke the Home button anyway. You can see the chomp marks around the button on the Otter Box. 

Those clever chaps at Apple have a workaround, though, and once I'd cleaned the slobber off the phone I discovered that my iPhone had self-diagnosed the breakage and put an on-screen Home button where I could use it. There is, however, no way to fix the actual Home button.

So, at my wife's urging, I did not punt Izzy like I was at my own five-yard line, but rather got on my laptop and ordered a new phone. I can use all the features on the old phone in the meanwhile, so Roger can rest assured that it will be taking his call next time I'm in the shower.  

Was it Izzy's fault? No, he's just a kid. Was it my fault for leaving the phone out? I think it may have fallen out of my pocket while I was sleeping, but if that was caused by the fatigue I was suffering, can I blame the windy weather? Or the makers of duloxetine? Or can I blame Rog, without whose call I would have left the phone safely where it was? 

It simply seems that these kinds of dumb expenses come right at the most expensive time of year. The credit card was already steaming, and now it's got to carry the freight for a new phone, thanks to my goat-like puppy. This is the kind of thing that makes people turn off the Grinch cartoon right as he's about to dump all the Who gifts off of Mount Crumpit and yell "That's a happy ending!"

Anyway, I'm blaming Rog. He can take it.

It's true and you know it.

 

Q & Author.

Host: Good morning, and welcome to our show. I'm Clarence Sassafras. This is Q & Author, the program where you the public gets to ask them the authors one question. Today's guest is Frederick Key, whose new novel Dwindle, Peak and Pine, has just been released. Good morning, Fred.

Fred: Yo.

Host: All right, let's get to it. Remember, just one question. Who's up first?

Caller 1: Hello, am I on?

Host: Yes. Who's our next caller?

Caller 2: Hi, I'd like to ask, is it really true that you can go to jail for ripping off the mattress tag?

Host: Good question, caller. Fred, over to you.

Fred: Um... That isn't really an issue in any of my writing, but I am pretty sure the penalties only apply to the mattress retailer.

Host: "Pretty sure"? Kind of wobbly there, Fred.

Fred: Yeah, it's not my area of the law. None of them are.

Host: Who's our next caller?

Caller 3: Can I say hi to my dad?

Host: No. Who's our next caller?

Caller 4: Hello, this is Rita from Sweezy Point. I'd like know what Ferd thinks about the situation in the Aleutians.

Host: Good question, there, Rita. Well, Ferd?

Fred: Fred.

Host: If you say so.

Fred: I was unaware of the situation in the Aleutians, Clarence.

Host: You seem rather uninformed, Ferd.

Fred: I don't get out much.

Host: Who's our next caller?

Caller 5: Hello. First time, long time. Wait, did that count as a question?

Host: No, but that one did. Who's our next caller?

Caller 6: OOOH! It's me! Hi, Clarence! It's so great to talk to you! You're just so wonderful! I love your show!

Host: Thank you, Mom, but I'm working right now.

Caller 6: Well, if you'd call me once in a while I wouldn't have to bother you at the office.

Host: Do you have a question for our author?

Caller 6: Sure, why not. Ummmm..... Mr. Author, why are books so bad these days? They're either bloody and gross or stuffy and boring.

Fred: Not all books. In fact, I can recommend --

Host: Mom, you're embarrassing me. Who's our next caller?

Caller 7: Hello, Clarence. Hello, Ferd. I just want --

Caller 6: Clarence, honey, what do you want for dinner on Sunday?

Host: Mom, get off the line! Go ahead, new caller.

Caller 7: I just wanted to know if Ferd has any thoughts on a possible solution to the Riemann hypothesis.

Host: How about it, Ferd?

Fred: Fred.

Host: Him too.

Fred: Can I go yet?

Host: No. Who's our next caller?

Caller 8: This is Rodney. Ferd, I just want to ask you, where do you get your ideas?

Ferd: I swear I have no clue about anything anymore. I'm not even sure what my name is.

Host: And there you have it, another episode of Q & Author. I'd like to thank my guest, Ferd What's-His-Name, and our callers. This is Clarence Sassafras saying: The only dumb question is the one you ask. Good day!

Hospital TV.

During my medical sojourn last week, I found that you can learn things from the TV the hospital provides to help pass the time. Mainly, you can learn that daytime TV is an irritating way to pass the time. Still, I had nothing to read and no juice on the cell phone until my wife brought me books and a charger, so it was more engaging than looking out the window.

I can't say I wasn't warned. A friend of mine was undergoing cancer treatments last year, and while he was able to stay at home through most of it, he was unable to do anything beyond watch the tube. I believe he said he had memorized episodes of Bonanza and The Twilight Zone and that Wilma Flintstone was starting to look good to him.

Thankfully, I only had a couple of days to deal with it, from Sunday afternoon through Tuesday evening. I can see how it would make you crazy. Even the all-news channels, or maybe especially those; the constant chewing of the same Bone Du Jour is insane. Apparently there was nothing much in the world of note last Monday except for the Roger Stone sentencing, because all the news channels were on it constantly.

Ah, but the cable TV provided by the hospital had soothing channels, with calming music and video clips from nature. Well, the most educational thing about that was that I couldn't stick with them very long. You'd think a guy in pain, who'd just been through a major pain crisis, would want nothing else on but that channel and the back of his eyelids, but no. No wonder I suck at meditation.

So what did I like?

Well, as I alluded to yesterday, I watched America's Funniest Home Videos on Sunday night. What made that educational was how my attitudes had changed toward people falling during the previous 24 hours. You just fell down the stairs! Go get an X-ray! You have no idea how this can come back to haunt you, you fool! My previous reaction to people falling on AFV was the more lizard-brained Ha ha him fall funny.

On Monday there was a Catholic priest in the little chapel downstairs, and I was able to watch Mass on CCTV. I liked that, although the sound quality was pretty bad.

I picked up a tidbit on the History channel, one that had nothing to do with Ancient Aliens. It was a neat little documentary on Air Force One that the channel ran on Presidents Day. I knew some of the history of the planes assigned that name, but amid the data was this: the name of the country painted on the plane's exterior is meant to simulate the typeface used for the name of the country as it was seen -- for the first time -- on the Declaration of Independence.

Cool.

Other things I leaned came from watching most of Return of the Jedi, which I have not seen in a very long time. And those things were numerous. They include:

1. The movie begins with the worst rescue plan I have ever seen in the movies. I can't even tell what they were trying to accomplish, sending people into Hutt's Hut in dribs. To infiltrate and then take over at a signal? Obviously not, since everything went to hell immediately. It made no sense at all. If R2 didn't have enough space to hide a lightsaber in his chassis, the galaxy would have been screwed. Even then a lot of dumb luck was required. Almost any other plan would have been better. 
2. Mark Hamill was a pretty bad actor. I don't know if he got any better. I haven't the new trilogy and I don't care. But Harrison Ford was pretty bad, too. He looks stoned through the scene where we learn the plan to attack the new Death Star and he is revealed to now be General Solo. If 1970s Steve Martin had been cast as Comic Relief Solo, and played the part the exact same way, people would have thought it was a hilarious spoof. 
3. Retroactively speaking, I hear that Leia was supposed to do all kinds of Force stuff late in the third trilogy. This makes perfect sense, as she's revealed to be a Skywalker. And yet, although Darth and Luke can sense each other's Forceishness in real time across space, neither of them had any idea that the Force would be strong with that princess, too. Was this addressed?

Anyway, by the time we got to the Ewoks, I was about to be whisked out of the room for injections. Some people loathe the little Space Teddy Bears, but at least for those pre-CGI days, they were pretty convincing.

I also saw enough (ten minutes) of Matt Damon's The Great Wall to realize that, whatever faults the Star Wars series might have, if you put them all together in a bag they might still weigh less than the faults in The Great Wall. What a waste of Willem DaFoe.

All of this hard-won knowledge would have been avoided if i'd had more than an 8% charge on my phone.

Maybe I should have spent more time staring out the window. Sure, it's a modern, dull building, and it looks drab and tired although it opened in 2011, and February is not much to look at -- but at least the skies were blue.

Question: Did someone determine that tan and brown are great healing colors? Because that's the sum of the whole color palette in this place. Does it help keep people relaxed and compliant?

Cord, cut.

So we did it -- something I advised a junior colleague against years ago. But yes, we have joined the legion of people without a landline telephone.

This feels weird.

The bracket and jack gape from the wall in silent accusation.

Since I was a kid, we had the phone on the kitchen wall and the phone in the master bedroom. When we moved, there was a phone on the kitchen wall and one in the master bedroom. When I had my first apartment. When I had my second apartment. When we bought the house. You get the idea.

I can remember the phone number we got when I was four years old. The phone numbers changed but the phone followed us everywhere.

And now? Phoneless.

Of course, we're not phoneless; we have cell phones. All our business calls are done through the cells; now, all our personal calls too. This is a change I wouldn't have expected. We got our cell phones back in the day because they were great for emergency use, especially when we were commuting to the city. It could be really tough to stay in contact in the pre-cell days, as anyone over thirty probably knows. My wife sold me on the idea -- "What if the car breaks down? What if you miss your train?" Memorably, the day we needed them the most -- the day those hell-bound bastards took down the towers -- cell phones weren't working at all.

Nevertheless, they have indeed been very handy at all other times.

I had told my young associate to get a landline because I felt cell phones were not reliable. You could run out of power. You could drop and break your phone! It could get lost or stolen! You could miss an important business call! But over the years I have found that these things didn't happen, or when they did could be rectified quickly. So we finally decided to eliminate one monthly bill and cut the cord.

I used the Christmas cards to alert everyone: "Don't call that old number! Ixnay on the olday umbernay! Just don't do it!"

Not that they were. Except for two aged relatives, everyone else who wanted me used e-mail or the cell phone. And the scammers. Oh, yes, they checked in on the landline once a day or so. And I have always suspected that we're one digit off from a kosher pizzeria, because the caller ID might have names like Shlomo Kritchenschmeir, and they'd just hang up when they got the voice mail.

I won't miss them. However, in addition to personal contacts, I made a list of all the businesses and utilities who had our home phone number that would have to be alerted to the change. Insurance companies, banks, utilities, clients, and so on. It was a long list, and I'm inching through it.

One that won't be alerted is the phone company. I thought when I called them (because you couldn't cancel service online) they would make the Big Pitch as to why you should stay. You know, offer to throw in free services, or cut the ever-increasing bill (over $100 monthly!), but no. Just, "Okay, sure, bye," and the phone went dead that same day. It was like breaking up with an angry girlfriend. I'm not good enough for you? Fine. Just fine. You're dead to me.

And that's fine.

Got the final bill yesterday. I owe $0.00. And that really rang my bell.

Offloading memory.

You may have see this cartoon making the rounds:

Maybe we should include the human brain among the aggrieved parties.

I have been racking my own dollar-store brain to remember what provider or computer outfit did the cell phone commercial some years ago in which a bunch of old guys in a bar are arguing sports trivia, and then a nerdish youth corrects them using information off his mobile phone. He astonishes the yahoos by pulling in the answers from the atmosphere. If you remember any details about it, please let me know. All I remember is that the young fellow had a face that looked like it could use a fist.

Considering today's topic, it's funny that I have not been able to find the commercial using the search engines. The problem is that all the search terms I come up with lead me to current ads and other more popular (or promoted) content. But I remember that ad, because it struck a chord. We all know that human memory plays tricks, and that the Internet contains every bit of sports trivia known to man.

When that commercial first aired, the magic of the Internet had been in play for a while, and we knew we could use it to answer all things -- but not while getting hammered at the bar. You had to use your computer to access the Internet. Sometimes buffering was involved. Prior to the information age, the bad memory of drunks was required to bring forth data -- or, for the well-prepared innkeeper, the Guinness Book of Records.

That worthy book, which became popular far beyond its humble origins (the managing director of the eponymous brewery's argument over what game bird in Europe was the fastest), was a staple in bars and homes for decades. For sports fans who liked to argue there were books like The Baseball Encyclopedia. Now, especially when Internet access is as far away as your shirt pocket, we tend to leave our memory up to the World Wide Web. Memorization is, in other words, for squares. And maybe for good reason.

"If I could remember everything I ever read," a friend once said (while drinking), "I'd be God." Exaggeration aside, I knew what he meant. It is frustrating to realize how much we forget of what we read. The joy of encountering a remembered book anew is nice, but not worth the loss of all the information that falls out of our heads when we are doing other things. I'm reading a book about the Battle of the Bulge now, one that is well researched and so contains lots of German names, and town and other place names, and I forget who and what everything is. A Generalfeldmarschall might disappear for twenty pages, and by the time he reemerges I've forgotten which one he is. I'd rather have some memory of him than have to look him up.

For so many things, memory is optional -- Dr. Internet will see you now. But even for those of us suffering from CRS, reliance on devices to inform our memories doesn't seem like a good idea. Does memory improve with training, as Harry Lorayne says? If so, we are in trouble. We're using memory less, thanks to the very devices accused of shortening our attention spans. Maybe we are getting dumber!

It doesn't help that when we do look things up, we tend to go straight to Wikipedia, which is not exactly gospel truth.

Anyway, the kid in the commercial reeling off sports trivia at the bar and annoying his elders would get his comeuppance later when he discovered another thing the smartphone was good for: drunk texting. Good luck talking to your girlfriend in the morning, bub.

Mysterious mysteries of the unknown!

Good evening. Tonight on Mysterious Mysteries of the Unknown, we look into some of the most baffling questions of our day. Can we solve these mysterious mysteries? Or will they remain... Unknown?

QUESTION: Does Walmart really think people will be more willing to buy chicken feet if they are sold as chicken paws? Aren't paws something that cute things like puppies and teddy bears have? Why would you want to eat them? 

It's... MYSTERIOUS!

👿

QUESTION: How did this Mercedes get smushed in on top? Rollover? Frozen 30-pound turkey dropped off an overpass? Fat guy sat on the roof for a rest? Or the ghost of Frank Nitti?

It's... UNKNOWN!

👾

QUESTION: Do these kids have a problem with language? Or does this newspaper not know how the English is spoke?

It's... a MYSTERY!

👹

QUESTION: Is it time to cut the grass? Or does the property manager think
he can wait a few more months? 

It's... an ENIGMA!

💀

QUESTION: Are these telephone poles hiding secret messages with their numbers?

Are they trying to tell us something? Or trying NOT to tell us something?

It's... A CONUNDRUM!

👽

QUESTION: Is this chair a clothing? Is it a shoe? Can people just not read?

It's... INSCRUTABLE! 

❔❓

QUESTION: What the hell is this thing? Too small for a bed frame--a toddler bed frame?
But why the strange non-foot-like protrusions? Is it a rack for torturing little gnomes? 

Are they trying to dispose of the evidence?

It's... a MINDBOGGLER!

👻

Join us again next time as we span the globe looking for... MYSTERIOUS MYSTERIES OF THE UNKNOWN!

Filling time.

I kill time playing games on my phone. I think I ought to find something more productive to do.

One game keeps chucking ads at me because I refuse to pay a subscription for it. I got a screenshot of one of the ads, because it made me a little sad.

First of all, it's not a good idea to stay awake for three days straight. I'm sure that's not news to you. And yes, I know they're trying to get across the idea that this game is so fun it's addictive. But is that really a good thing?

Anyone who's been to a casino has seen the unsmiling focus of the people playing games. They may be having fun, in a way, but they are working hard. The stimulation that takes us out of ourselves seems to be the biggest draw for addictive activities that don't involve ingesting chemicals. Despite having no physical addictive component outside the body, degenerate gamblers will follow that addiction to ruin as certainly as any alcoholic or drug addict. Is portable gaming becoming the same way, so much so that advertisers can joke about it?

Some games try to make it seem that they are downright healthy for you:

To say the least, the jury is out on whether games sharpen the mind. Some studies say maybe, some say maybe not. Am I going to put in 30-60 hours a month to find out? I think not.

Who the heck has the time for this? Most of us have work or school or just a lot of things to do to keep the joint in order. Everyone I know who has happiness and purpose in life has things to do. Games don't count. I like to relax with something dumb, but at some point it stops being relaxing.

I've seen this kind of behavior before. It could be someone who ignores what he or she ought to do and just does crossword puzzles or Sudoku. It usually strikes me as a crutch for depression -- when nothing seems worth doing, but you're awake so you have to pass the time somehow. And this game will keep you awake for three days!

I don't know if app games are going to be linked to America's drug and/or obesity crises. I'm just saying that they don't help.

Of course, what people ought to be doing is reading books on Kindle and Nook and other apps. Specifically, my books! My books make you smarter, healthier, and better looking. It's scientifically proven! Are you going to argue with science?

CSI: Fred.

The other day I was walking junior dog when we came across these phones, right in the middle of the street.

Both of them had seen better days. The screens were cracked like they'd been run over.

I took them back to examine them, see if I could find out to whom they belonged. The ZTE phone seemed to be a Blade Vantage, which you can get for fifty bucks with a Verizon deal, and the ANS phone a $25 special from Assurance Wireless.

The ANS was dead; no power at all, and I have no charger that could fit it. The ZTE still had some life, which I discovered to my surprise when it started to ring for tea time at 8:50:

I was able to turn on the phone, and navigate a little, but the broken screen kept maneuvering around on its own. After much fiddling I actually found out to whom the phone belonged, and he was actually listed in the white pages. I got an address. No phone number available -- and if there was, I might have just been calling this busted relic. So I decided that the phones had probably been lost or stolen together and I would send them both to the owner. I wanted to do it on the sly; I had no desire to get involved in a crime scene or a domestic squabble. Plus, I didn't have any choice; the owner lived in an apartment complex that has a strict no-trespassing rule. (Believe me, I got yelled at once just for walking my dog past there on Thanksgiving morning.)

I left the envelope with the broken phones on the big apartment mailbox, hoping someone would get it to the man before the rain started. Two hours later it was raining.

So it was lame, I know, but had either phone been intact I would have tried much harder to get them to the owners. I've done that before with a phone that I found. These were cheap and probably irreparable.

I still would like to know how they wound up in the middle of the street. I may have to write a mystery story to find out, because I'll probably never know.

📱📱📱📱📱

UPDATE: No, not about the phones. Sharp readers -- and aren't you all? -- will have noted that I posted twice yesterday. That's because this post was composed yesterday afternoon and saved, except I pressed Post instead of Save. So to salvage it as a post for today, here's the latest satirical brilliance from the clever chaps at IMAO, giving the Babylon Bee a run for its money:

UC Berkeley Bans Constitution as ‘Hate Speech’ Over ‘3/5 Person’ and ‘Indians not Taxed’

Shoot pool, fast Freddie.

I was looking for a phone app to kill time in a stupid way while waiting for a bus, or in a doctor's office, or wherever else I may need to be at a time I didn't want to think. Really, the perfect game app is one that engages me enough so that my brain is too busy to worry about other things. I see the FDA just approved an electronic device for OCD, but I suspect the smartphone has been doing that already for some of us with these kind of games.

I tried a few different games, until I finally found my new favorite waste of time:

Infinite Pool by Kiseki is a typically insane setup. You are basically shooting pool along a varying landscape to get hats to sell in your hat store. Yes, you read that right. How do you get hats by shooting pool? Well, DUH. You knock balls wearing hats into holes! And you can upgrade hats with money you earn. The more and better hats you sell, the more money you make; the more money you make, the more you expand the store; the more you expand the store, the more merchandise you have to get. And that means? Back to shootin' pool!

No, it doesn't have to make sense. 

Like regular pool, the plan is to knock balls into holes without your cue ball going into one. A scratch ends the round. So does running out of shots. But every time you knock a ball into a hole you get another shot (you start with five, also the max you can earn), so if you're a good shot you can theoretically keep going forever. Of course, the round gets harder the longer you play. 

With all those neat hats hanging around, your cue ball wants to wear one, amiright? Of course! Different hats give your cue ball different abilities, like greater shot power, more shots to start a round, or bigger explosive power. (Did I mention there are bombs you can set off? There are bombs you can set off.) You can also earn different cue balls as well; you start off with basic Cupi, but at this point there are 27 you can get for your cue-ball stable. Here's Woofi, whom I equipped with a police hat, thereby making him a police dog:

In addition to the basic mission -- Hats -- there are also sub missions that lead to financial rewards, ranging from stupidly easy to slightly difficult. And of course there are the inevitable in-game purchases and ads to watch for side benefits.

Officer Woofi minding the hat store.
Note that the term "hats" includes glasses,
sunglasses, and Afro wigs.

As you expand your store you get more expensive hats to sell, but these sell more slowly than the cheaper ones. As in real life.

There are also special events. There was a soccer theme in place during the World Cup, and now a tennis theme has started -- maybe just for US users -- with the US Open under way. These events feature various achievements and rewards you can reach.

It's a fun game that takes some but not a lot of skill, and rewards regular play. I hate to think how much time I've wasted on it, but those have all been tiny amounts of time. I guess I could have been flossing in that time, or reading Plato, or learning new French words, but would I? Would I really?

No, if I wasn't shooting pool and collecting hats, I'd just be worrying. It is the way of my people.