Skunk, tables, books.

Three topics weighing heavily on me this morning: Skunks, Tables, and Books. 

Let's go.

The dog groomer sent this around, and I repost it here as a public service. I do not know if this is the best advice, but I sure would be willing to give it a try. As longtime readers will recall, the late Tralfaz had a couple of memorable tussles with skunks and lost both, because with a skunk, as with porcupines and wasps, even if you win, you lose. When we tried to de-skunk the boy we started by spraying him with water, and I can tell you it did not help. I think the water may have just spread the skunk juice around, or helped it penetrate his skin. 

I think the method from the groomer -- who has probably de-skunked dozens of dogs -- is worth a try. If you are a dog owner, I hope you will not need it. Still, better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it. 

I did see a skunk waddle into the road the other morning while walking Izzy. Fortunately we were not crossing his path nor vice-versa, and he still had the good sense to go back the way he came.  

As for tables: You know also if you read this site that I am grateful for our trashmen, who make life much cleaner for the rest of us. Our local service is willing to pick up one (1) large item a week from each household, and in past years that has meant a mattress or an old easy chair. Last week it meant the kitchen table that my mother gave my wife and me as a wedding gift. 

We have had this set a long time. My wife never much liked it. We tried to replace it with another set more than ten years ago when elevated pub-type tables were in vogue, and she wound up liking that one less -- so that was relegated to the dining room and the old set came out again. A new new set has finally landed, and so the old table's time was up. 

That table lasted as long as it did because it was solid. It weighed a ton. I only got it to the street last Friday because it was circular and, with the legs off, I could roll it. Took out the legs and the leaf too. I was not sure the boys would carry it away, but they did, God bless ‘em. 

We still have the six chairs, which can go out in installments. No big rush. After all, a chair without a table is still a chair, but a table without a chair is a sideboard.

Finally, books. 

Just a quick announcement that Hans G. Schantz has rounded up a bunch of authors again to submit ebooks to the Based Book Sale. All books are 99 cents or less until September 11! Stock up on your reading to help you get through the anxiety of the election season and the stress of the holidays. I've got two books involved. Which ones? You'll have to look at the list and find out! 

Weekend book sales!!!!

The season of shopping and Sales! Sales! Sales! has begun, and I and a bunch of other authors would like you to know how you too can save...

Well, okay, maybe not big money and not all the way until Christmas. But! Thanks to the hard work of Hans G. Schantz, there is a Black Friday/Cyber Monday book sale running until Tuesday the 28th. Every book is 99 cents or less!  

I got the word via Perfessor Squirrel, that enigmatic maven of the written word, and barely got a book in on time. Here's what I submitted:

It’s 1951, and Army veteran McMann is down in his luck in a Texas town, accompanied by his partner, Duck. Duck is an actual duck, which McMann credits for saving his life in the war. They are asked to investigate a case of theft at the local trucking company, where an employee vanished with the contents of the safe. The search for the missing man leads to the discovery of a murder — a murder in which McMann himself looks like an interesting suspect to the sheriff. Of course, all the locals think he’s crazy already, hanging around with a duck. Can McMann and Duck find the real killer — or will the real killer find them first?

How can you resist? It's got everything great -- murder, danger, Texas, ducks... all for 99 cents. And if that doesn't do it for you, you'll find plenty of books by other authors that will. 

So visit the site and get all your reading needs settled for a small clutch of simoleons. Happy reading to you! 

Bloody sacrifice of the cash cow.

Once you notice it, you can't stop noticing it.

All the best and brightest around us who achieve high positions in any capacity feel obliged to follow this series of steps:

1) Examine the state of the organization.

2) Determine what segment of the market is outside its current reach. 

3) Viciously attack its strongest adherents in the hope of winning over the outsiders. 

We all know the term cash cow from marketing -- that beloved quadrant of the business that just keeps pulling in money, year after year, without very much tending, a segment that yields predictable if unspectacular dividends that can be used to fund more risky, more potentially wealth-generating projects. All the company has to do is feed the cow and not murder it. 

It seems that all the grads from the business schools get a complimentary butcher knife along with their sheepskin. They loathe having to work on a dull part of a dull company that just makes money. Blech! (People who blech! at profit are people who have never had to worry where their next meal is coming from.) They would much rather be social engineering!

Step one: Kill the cow. And the fastest way to do that is to insult its greatest adherents to the point of libel and make them angry every time they see your logo. The next step is to be shocked that people got upset, and then get panicky when the sought-after new audience segment does not flood into the doors and double the revenue. Step three: Write a book about your great accomplishment a fail upward into a new job.

Gilette. Bud Light. Disney (subsets especially include Star Wars). The NFL. These are only some of the prominent businesses that have suffered at the hands of their young geniuses. 

The United States is doing it to its citizens. The very people who love this country and the principles upon which it stands and would die for it are treated with suspicion and worse by its own government, which is run by people who would not suffer a rainy weekend for it. Meanwhile, noncitizens are welcomed, no matter how illegal their entry, no questions asked, and criminals are allowed to run the streets. 

And now, the Catholic Church?

Every devout Catholic I know is worried that the Holy Father, a.k.a. Hippie Pope Frank, has called the three-year synod to make some rash changes, like ordaining women (which the church has declared is not possible), encouraging more illegal immigration (but not into Vatican City), easing up on divorce, or blessing same-sex unions, following the lead of some apostate bishops in Germany. (Germany: Birthplace of Bad Ideas Since Forever.)

The stupid logo they commissioned for it fills me with dread. Rather than being focused on Jesus, God, or the Trinity, it looks like a pagan tree god sheltering the usual multiculti mob, which schleps forward into a future of tribalism and special pleading.

I know church membership is down since World War II, but that's true for all churches. The reasons are varied, ranging from scientism/positivism to the apathy of wealth to the sickness of Communism to worldwide PTSD from the war. It's not just because the Pope doesn't like the Pill. 

Protestant churches who ran out in front to rubberstamp everything people wanted lost attendance even faster. Why? There's no point to a church that asks nothing, because a church with no firm moral center can give nothing. A church that approves everyone's bullshit can neither inspire nor educate, and certainly can't compel adherence or the personal sacrifice that leads to spiritual growth. If they're just social service stations, who the hell cares? The government already does that and tithing to them is not voluntary.

Is the Catholic church killing the cow with the so-called synod? Is it Vatican III, "Just do what you want"? Which would utterly infuriate and demoralize the faithful, who have kept the joint up all this time. And the church would be following a modern heresy. 

Heresy is not what the atheists say; that's simple unbelief. Evildoers within the church are not usually heretics; they are evil bastards who would have been better off sunk with a millstone necktie. Heresy comes from focusing on one part and blowing it up to be the whole thing. Worship of poverty like Tolstoy or worship of spiritual matters as secret magic like the Gnostics are heresies. Love of people to the exclusion of the laws of God would be the greatest heresy to ever invade the church. 

If the pope is thinking of doing something nuts -- not ex cathedra level but still -- he will not bring any of the "lost sheep" and he will lose the powerful love and devotion of those he has. He may think he's being Christlike, leaving the 99 to go after the 1, but when he gets back with the 1 and finds the 99 have fled and then the 1 kicks him in the nads and tears off, he'll feel a little stupid.

If that's possible. None of these cash-cow-killer geniuses ever seem to regret, understand, or appreciate anything. You explain that people don't like it when you attack them and their cherished beliefs, and they act like it's weird that stupid people would have feelings. They fail to grasp the most simple ideas, and we're the stupid ones?

The people in charge of things hate the very people whom they need the most. Once you see it, you see it everywhere. 

Presidents Day sale!

Hello, friends! We're celebrating Presidents Day here at Fredcoin, everyone's favorite cryptocurrency, with an amazing deal! You won't want to miss out on this one! But first, you need to ask yourself some important questions. 

Yes, friends, you need to say to yourself, "SELF! Do I want my wallet to be fat, like Taft? Or scrawny like Madison? Do I want my savings to be piled high like Lincoln? Or be peewee like, er, Madison? Man, Madison was a little dude, wasn't he?"

Well, of course the answer is: You want the big dough! You want to be raking it in like Trump before becoming president, not have to wait like Obama until afterward! 

But, you wonder, how can Fredcoin bring you the big bucks if it's just another form of currency?

See, right there, that's our secret: No one knows. The US Treasury is jammed with people who know a lot about money. Congress and the White House are full of money people. The Federal Reserve is all about the good old US dollar. And how is that working out? Your dollar has more shrinkage than the guys in the Polar Bear Club on New Year's Day. Meanwhile, at Fredcoin, we don't know beans about money, and 1 Fredcoin has remained equal to 1 Fredcoin ever since we started. QED!

And here's our amazing Presidents Day Fred, White, and Blue Sale: Buy 50 Fredcoin for one Grant, and we'll throw in another 20 for one Jackson! We must be nuts to make a deal like that, I know! Or maybe drunk! Oh ho! Which two presidents have a reputation for being prodigious topers? Aaahhhh, there you are!

Once again, I must ask if you want to be smart like our smarty smart presidents (Washington, Lincoln)? Dumb like our big dumbbell presidents (take your pick)? Or even so smart you come all the way around to being stupid again (Wilson)? Of course not! You want to be with the hip crowd! You want Fredcoin!

So remember, my fellow Americans, turn that flimsy US currency into rock-solid Fredcoin! And keep flying the Fred, White, and Blue! 

Crushalogs III: The Secret of the Ooze.

They're back, and they're fabulous. 

Every three years on the dot I blog about the load of catalogs I've gotten for Christmas, usually around the middle of November. 

The original Crushalogs piece in 2016 was one of my most read posts ever, as I noted in the sequel in 2019. Since then Google got out of the practice of referring blogs to other blog users on the Blogger platform, and readership across the board has plummeted. I guess Google hasn't figured out a way to get us to buy phony visitors as Twitter has done and TikTok still does. They probably don't care anymore. "Who reads blogs? That's old-man stuff." And so they leave the Blogger upkeep to the the virtually unemployable, the habitually stoned, and the dumdum interns.

But enough complaints. Above you see most of the load of Christmas catalogs I have received since the season started around mid-October. A few got away, I'm sure; for example, I get frequent mailings from the wholesale club, and they sort of ease slowly into the holiday theme before they go all-in on Christmas, so it can be hard to tell when they're nearly Christmas or really most sincerely Christmas. I only want to include the latter in the annual roundup. 

Also, I'm sure a few made it into the recycle bin without any consideration for the importance of this blog. That may be due to my forgetfulness, or to the actions to unnamed others in this home. 

The question remains, however: Have I yet received enough Christmas mailings to outweigh a ream of paper? 

There was a time when you'd ask that about the phonebook. Many things were compared to the size, girth, and weight of the phone book, especially the Manhattan Yellow Pages. But the phonebook has become the phonepamphlet. Geez, I'm old-fashioned and even I ignore the phonebook. So instead I'm comparing the load of catalogs to date against a fresh ream of 20-pound copier paper, the kind where you want the printout to be legible but not necessarily suitable for framing. So, using my handheld luggage scale, let's see which weighs more! 

Ream of paper: 5 pounds

Fred's catalogs to date: 2 pounds 

I think I can safely say that catalog mailings are down from previous years. Could be the lousy economy, or just that more and more people ignore mailings as time marches on. 

I will say this: It's been a couple of years since Restoration Hardware sent me their enormous card-stock catalog set, and that would definitely have tilted the fight to the catalogs. That would have weighed close to the same as the ream of paper all by itself. Hell, if you request the lot, that’s 2,500+ pages right there, and not cheap local coupon-clipper-mailer paper! Looks like RH discovered that I work in publishing, though, and so I don't have two thousand clams to throw around for hairy ottomans. But if you have someone on your list who wants a good doorstop, or a beginner's weightlifting set, request all their catalogs and that's one person off your list for free! 

Well, now it's to the recycling bin with you, catalogs, where after you will join your brethren in the landfill, because no one wants recycling and they won't burn scrap paper for energy like they should. Cheerio!

Hard sell.

Yesterday morning tiny little 82-pound baby dog Izzy had to go to the vet for his first annual checkup. In future, his shots will be staggered, but on this one he got them all at once: Lyme, bordetella, rabies, and so on. He passed his physical and was very well behaved (why can't my doctor give ME cheese during an exam?). But he was completely wiped out afterward. So, in fact, was I. 

We were conked out in the living room when Izzy suddenly got an interior call on the Bladder Hot Line, and I woke to him whining. With no thought to my own bladder, I whisked him outside, where, like any dog with a strong urge to micturate, he started wandering around by the sidewalk, looking for the perfect spot. And that's when two things happened that led to my Irritation of the Day. 

First, a young guy pulled up to me riding a hoverboard. He had a lanyard and a clipboard, so I knew this wasn't going to be good. 

Worse, he had barely started into his pitch (Today only! Deep discount! Trucks in the neighborhood!) for lawn pest control when a pal from around the corner stopped his car on the way and said hi to both of us, him having used pest-control service. Now the salesman knew I live in this house, not just walking the dog past it, and he has a customer he can point to as a success story. 

The pitch continues, and continues, and continues. I keep saying no as nicely as I can. 

Why? After all, readers of this blog know I hate every critter this guy shows on his kill list, from wasps to spiders to ticks to mice. But I will not be driven into a snap decision when one is not necessary, and I despise the hard sell. 

Can't stand it, always have. Once when I was a kid, my parents made the mistake of going for a tour of a time-share outfit in Florida. For our willingness to look around and listen to the pitch, the salesman promised a gift certificate and some novelty prize. Well, my parents had a bad feeling about the whole deal (the same one many time-share customers would come to have) and their answer was no. That salesman went from funny young man to blank-eyed casino owner the moment we got in his office. You could not tell him no in any form or language that would lead the conversation to end. We would still be there to this day, us kids grown-up and the remains our dead parents, with the guy waiting for us to agree -- but finally my parents just got up and we left. If I had been younger I would have screamed "I pooped my pants!" to help them get out sooner. 

As much as I admire energy, get-up-and-go, and hard-charging ambition, I will not be told that I have to make a decision now, not unless someone is literally going to die. And when a salesperson asks "What is there to think about?" I shut down entirely. 

I swore I would call him if he'd give me his number, and I would have, but he wouldn't let go. I used my wife as my excuse for not agreeing to anything, and said she wasn't home, and no I could not call her right now, and finally got away. 

During this whole exchange, poor exhausted Izzy had flopped on the sidewalk, and neither of us had peed, and we were both losing our joie de vivre quickly.  

I should have yelled "I pooped my pants!" and run.

You know I've had it when I would rather have the four- and six- and eight-legged pests than that two-legged pest. 

UPDATE: The town has sent out this notice: 

We have received several reports from residents regarding recent door-to-door solicitation from a pest control company.  Please be aware that the Town has not issued any Peddler's Permits for this solicitation, as required by Town code.  Those who have been issued a Peddler's Permit by the Town should always be able to present this permit when asked.  Please exercise caution and do not invite strangers into your home.