Brick’s Blog

     My old buddy, Webbie, sure is getting the hang of being a senator who is responsive to his constituents. Whenever I contact our senators, I send them identical e-mails. Ah, the efficiency of cut and paste. Once again Webb’s response was received before any from Warner, which is a pleasant development from earlier this year. Check it out here.  

     Webbie’s recent reply was to my e-mail sent Sunday morning after the House passed their so-called healthcare reform bill. Once again Jim proved he’s the hardest working man in the U.S. Senate, since the time stamp on his e-mail carried 9:50 p.m. last evening. Jim, please go be with your family. Oh, wait a minute, you guys only work 3 days (Tuesday – Thursday); maybe it’s good if you really did burn some midnight oil.  

     Clown Boy’s response ran almost 500 words. I didn’t read it all at first because initially I didn’t get passed the 2^nd paragraph which reads as follows:

“For this reason, I joined seven of my Senate colleagues in urging that legislative text and cost estimates from the Congressional Budget Office be posted for public viewing at least 72 hours before the measure is debated or voted on in the full Senate.  This will allow our constituents to evaluate the proposal in detail and make their views known.  It is important for us to be very deliberate on an issue of such importance to the lives of so many Americans.”

      Let me just go through these 3 sentences to explain why it took some Coleridgian “suspension of disbelief” to read the rest of Webb’s response.

 1.)    Wow, Jim, 8 of our 100 senators want the legislative text and COB’s estimates posted for public viewing 72 hours before debate or vote on the legislation. Way to put together a huge 12 % coalition of your colleagues. What about the other 92 clowns?

2.)    Where did this 72 hour viewing period come from? 3 days to voice an opinion? What if I lived in California and wanted to “write” a letter to Senator Boxer or Feinstein. Can you guarantee the U.S. Postal Service could deliver a 1^st class letter in that 3 day period?

3.)    It really is nice that your constituents are being “allowed” to “evaluate” this proposal in detail. If I remember correctly, the Baucus senate version of the healthcare bill runs some 1,500 pages. Thanks, Jim, for getting 3 whole days for the common man to wade through 1,500 pages of legalese.

4.)    “It is important for us to be very deliberate on an issue of such importance…” No kidding, Clown Boy, but 3 days is deliberate? Hey, if you haven’t noticed, Obama is approaching 11 weeks in his deliberation on troop levels in Afghanistan. You and your imperial colleagues might consider holding some Town Halls with your constituents.

      Oh, I could rant on, but I’ve vented; so I feel better. Thanks for reading.

     One of my favorite movie quotes of all times is from Diner, when Boogie tells Carol. “It was Ripley’s.” Of course, this occurs after the infamous popcorn scene in the movie, when Boog offers the most implausible tale ever that only affirms Modell’s earlier comment that Carol isn’t a smart girl. Over the last week, I have had 2 instances where I might begin to believe Boog’s explanation after all. These are those Seinfeldian moments when you want to have a Kramer like shudder in disbelief.

     The first occurred out near Wyndham when I saw a darling green commercial pick up emblazoned with Doody Calls logos. If you’re not familiar with Doody Calls this is a service like lawn care that will purge your dog’s droppings from your yard. This just brings to mind a Seinfeld episode where I believe Jerry comments that if aliens were watching from outer space and saw humans picking up after their pets who would the aliens think was the superior creature? Personally, I can’t ever imagine using this service, since I am a firm believer in “shit happens” and nothing proves that quicker than stepping into a pile of it.  

     My 2nd moment was over the weekend. There is no place I detest more than Short Pump Town Center. The traffic is unbearable, the commercialism despicable, and driving civility/politeness is non existent. Fortunately, I was on one of my stealth marketing early morning outings and no one was out and about, so I was cutting through SPTC with no impediments. As I was motoring along the backside near Dick’s, I thought I saw a neon sign advertising a hotel. Nah, I thought that can’t be right, but just to satisfy my ever curious mind I did a u-turn. Sure enough, there is something called the Sierra Hotel adjacent to Dick’s. Now, I have been to the Galleria at Tyson’s Corner with its connecting Ritz Carlton, but SPTC as a destination location? Gimme a break.

    I’ve been thinking lately about what NASCAR will be like now that the government owns GM. Since they are racing at Daytona tonight, I was wondering what next year’s 500 might be like. Maybe we’ll have a new “3″ car, even though to any self respectin’ good old boy that would be pure sacrilege. But why would our
government care, it isn’t listening to us anyway; and those who would be most offended by a new “3″ car are just considered cretins to them anyway.

     Now let’s just suppose the government did decide to sponsor a NASCAR ride next year. It would have to be a Chevrolet so that it would appeal to the masses. It would have to meet CAFE standards. And since I am hoping for a new “3″ car, its sponsor would have to be Nancy Pelosi. After all, Speaker Pelosi is third in line in our federal system. Anyway, the picture above is my mock up of what the new “3″ car might look like. Gentlepersons, start your engines!

      Do you remember that Seinfeld episode, where Jerry has reserved a rental car and when he arrives to pick it up, the rental car company is out of cars? It leads to a shtick about how the rental car company knows how to take the reservation, but it is in honoring the reservation that the company has a problem. Well, that’s how I felt Sunday.

      I was out of fish oil capsules. Since I am a connoisseur of such things and my Nordic Naturals – Omega 3-6-9 aren’t available at anything as mundane at CVS, I knew a trip to the natural food store was on tap. Out in suburbia, our natural food store, Good Foods, is closed on Sundays. Knowing my schedule for the day, I knew I would be passing in the vicinity of Ellwood Thompson and surmised that ET as the area’s 1st natural food store would certainly carry my preferred brand.

     Even though I lived in the City for many years, I sometimes feel like I am entering an alternate universe when I revisit an area I haven’t frequented recently. The strip center where Ellwood Thompson is located is one I knew well. When we lived on Monument Avenue, the Blockbuster there was the one I used. The ABC store is around the corner. There use to be a High’s Ice Cream store there, which you know based on my waistline had to be a favorite. Hall Tree for Windsor Farms discards was another known entity. Ukrop’s, Little Caesar’s, CVS in the adjacent strip were all familiar haunts. When we moved from the City, Ellwood Thompson had only been ensconced there for a few years.

     Arriving near the dinner hour, I was amazed at how dominant Ellwood Thompson had become in this strip center. The cars and the foot traffic wasn’t all to the adjacent Blockbuster as in the past; it was to ET. Ellwood Thompson had become a PLAYER. But enough of that, I need to get this errand done.

     As I entered ET, I see what looks to be a cantaloupe on display, but it’s labeled as an "ambrosia" melon. It’s $2.99 @ pound. If you know me, then you know I am a frugal shopper. I can buy a whole (multiple in season) cantaloupe for this price, but estimating the weight at 2 pounds, knowing I won’t have to make another stop, wanting some fruit with dinner and just plain curious what the hell an ambrosia melon is, I caved to impulse. On to the supplement section and with one inquiry from a helpful clerk, I had my Omega 3-6-9’s and was at the check out. 

     It was then that it hit me. Had I been transported to New Zealand. Was this a Maori convention? All around me - nothing but tattoos and piercings - the clerks, the customers. Boy, what would Jerry do with this and what question would he pose. Let’s see, you very careful what you put in your body, it’s what you put on your body you don’t care about? Just asking.

     Oh, the ambrosia melon? Weighed a tad more than 3 pounds. Was $10. Just a juicer cantaloupe. You know there use to be a vegetable stand down the street from ET on a vacant lot where Floyd ends into Thompson. Do you know how much cantaloupe I could have bought there this time of year for $10?      

    Rally around the flag, boys; I am going to need some cover on this one. Yeah, I know I am a sexist pig. I can’t help it. I was raised one of 4 boys and I now know my mother deserved sainthood, but what is with women and cell phones. Yesterday, I walked into the post office to mail some materials to a new client of mine. If you’re like me than you use the automated station, so as not to get caught in the black hole of the United States Postal Service. The entire time I was at the automated station, a woman at the counter nearby was engaged in an animated cell phone conversation. Frankly, my dear, I am not that interested in the daily minutia that is your life. So biting my tongue, I walked out of the post office only to encounter two more women entering also engaged in loud cell conversations. Seeking the refuge that is my car, I looked over my shoulder while backing out only to find the woman in the automobile on my left was also engaged in cell call. Fortunately, the windows of our cars shielded me from hearing this conversation. By now, the original woman has left the post office and is crossing in front of my car and guess what? She’s still jabbering away. 

     Gals, who are you all talking to? Is there some Mother Ship we men don’t know about? Is Lieutenant Uhura directing you all?  And please, don’t get a Blue Tooth or I really will start believing there is a Uhura Syndrome.

     Do you ever feel like doing a Kramer double take? You know the move, when Cosmo sends his body into a complete flutter in response to comment or situation occurring around him. I know almost weekly I have one of those moments when I feel like I am in a Seinfeld episode. From now on, I hope to transcribe those events when they happen and post them here. Let me give you an example of a Seinfeldian Moment from earlier this year.

     For Christmas, I had received a biography on Ben Franklin by Walter Isaacson. We Virginians often think that the “only” Founding Fathers were Virginians. After reading Isaacson’s book and watching several televised symposiums taped during the 300th anniversary celebration of Franklin’s birth, Franklin now ranks with Washington and Jefferson on my short list of most significant Founding Fathers. Considering I grew up in the Northern Neck of Virginia (birthplace of Washington) and graduated from Mr. Jefferson’s University (UVA), old Ben should be delighted he’s on my personal “Mount Rushmore.” (In case you wondering about the 4th – Robert E. Lee, also born in the Northern Neck. The epitome of a Virginia Gentleman and I’m not referring to the bourbon, but I digress and Lee should be a subject for another time.) 

     Benjamin Franklin retired when he was 42 (1748) and then spent the remainder of his life, another 42 years, in public service. Franklin was the first media mogul who successfully franchised his printing and publishing business throughout the original colonies. In 1753, Franklin was appointed deputy postmaster general of North America by the British crown and reformed the postal service. Within a few years, Franklin had postal deliveries between Philadelphia and New York down to 2 days. Now there’s a true information superhighway. Of course, controlling the pace of communication between the Colonies wasn’t bad for the publishing business!

     It’s a shame today that no one at the U.S. Postal Service has a vested interest like Ben did. At the end of January, I went to the Post Office to pick up stamps for a postcard mailing I was doing. After waiting the perfunctory half hour for a Postal Clerk, I cheerfully asked for 1,000 postcard stamps. The clerk then informed me and did so with a straight face that the Post Office didn’t have any 24 cent stamps, which was the new postcard postal rate as of January 8th. “I could have 1,000 23 cent stamps and 1,000 1 cent stamps.” Excuse me, trying not to go POSTAL, the U.S. Postal Service raises its rate, its 3 weeks past the new rate start date and the Post Office doesn’t have a product for its required new rate? “No, and we don’t know when the new 24 cent stamps will be printed either.”

     Oh, what a time for a Kramer shutter, but being pragmatic, just as my newfound hero Franklin would have, I accepted my 2,000 stamps and the thought of handling each piece of my mailing an additional 1,000 times.