Forget About That Corny Corner-Ribbon's Drivel! The Real Secret is HERE Indeed - not over there!

Saturday, February 19, 2005

Nature does not bestow virtue; to be good is an art.

Seneca wrote that...
And the words ring so true still, even today... eh?

Even in this downtrodden cynical era we live in... *LOL*

But the artform is all but lost these days!
It is sometimes sooooooooo hard ''to be good'' - especially in the face of well-organized yet deeply absurd and moronic adversity...
Ineptitude is found everywhere these days - you know it well, I'm sure...
Brainless adversaries are everywhere - not to mention only plain bureaucratic annoyance!

And what if we all turned the tide - on them?
What if we showed them that two can play the same game indeed!?
Generations X, Y and Z would be hard-pressed to figure out an effective way to promptly accomplish this - for that all-important task, one has to look to the elderly... Check out the comments section (again - duh) for the whole sordid (and reputedly all-true) story... *lol*

By the way, for those who are in doubt, I am not advocating a revolution here (the only type worthy of the name is violent - although, in Quebec, they had the absurd notion that they could conduct a ''Quiet Revolution'' and get anything accomplished that way... Quebec - land of the snow, the oxymorons and the turds apparently! That applies to the ''Québécois Pure Laine'' by the way - exclusively! Oh... okay... A few ''allophones'' up there too are qualifiers for that dubious title...)
No... I am no revolutionary... I prone evolutionary action! And, really, the only way to do so - is to do as Christ said ; by opening our hearts! ;)

Blessings!
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Shown below, is an actual letter that was sent to a bank by a 96 year old woman. The bank manager thought it amusing enough to have it published in the New York Times.

Dear Sir:

I am writing to thank you for bouncing my check with which I endeavored to pay my plumber last month. By my calculations, three nanoseconds must have elapsed between his presenting the check and the arrival in my account of the funds needed to honor it.

I refer, of course, to the automatic monthly deposit of my entire income, an arrangement which, I admit, has been in place for only eight years. You are to be commended for seizing that brief window of opportunity, and also for debiting my account $30 by way of penalty for the inconvenience caused to your bank.

My thankfulness springs from the manner in which this incident has caused me to rethink my errant financial ways. I noticed that whereas I personally attend to your telephone calls and letters, when I try to contact you, I am confronted by the impersonal, overcharging, pre-recorded, faceless entity which your bank has become.

From now on, I, like you, choose only to deal with a flesh-and-blood person.

My mortgage and loan repayments will therefore and hereafter no longer be automatic, but will arrive at your bank, by check, addressed personally and confidentially to an employee at your bank whom you must nominate.

Be aware that it is an offense under the Postal Act for any other person to open such an envelope. Please find attached an Application Contact Status which I require your chosen employee to complete. I am sorry it runs to eight pages, but in order that I know as much about him or her as your bank knows about me, there is no alternative.

Please note that all copies of his or her medical history must be countersigned by a Notary Public, and the mandatory details of his/her financial situation (income, debts, assets and liabilities) must be accompanied by documented proof. In due course, I will issue your employee with a PIN number which he/she must quote in dealings with me. I regret that it cannot be shorter than 28 digits but, again, I have modeled it on the number of button presses required of me to access my account balance on your phone bank service.

As they say, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. Let me level the playing field even further. When you call me, press the buttons as follows

1. To make an appointment to see me.
2. To query a missing payment.
3. To transfer the call to my living room in case I am there.
4. To transfer the call to my bedroom in case I am sleeping.
5. To transfer the call to my toilet in case I am attending to nature.
6. To transfer the call to my mobile phone if I am not at home.
7. To leave a message on my computer, a password to access my computer is required. Password will be communicated to you at a later date to the Authorized Contact.
8. To return to the main menu and to listen to options 1 through 7.
9. To make a general complaint or inquiry. The contact will then be put on hold, pending the attention of my automated answering service. While this may, on occasion, involve a lengthy wait, uplifting music will play for the duration of the call.

Regrettably, but again following your example, I must also levy an establishment fee to cover the setting up of this new arrangement.
May I wish you a happy, if ever so slightly less prosperous New Year.

Your Humble Client


(Remember: This was written by a 96 year old woman. Atta Girl!!!
Let us see a 16 year-old bimbo... 26 year-old witch-with-a-B... 36 year-old hellcat... 46 year-old used-to-bee... 56 year-old ''don't-give-a-damn'' lady... or 66 year-old babyboomer come up with anything like THAT...! HA. But I digress...)
 
Oh... before I go off and start another ballroom brawl -an umpteenth one- at the local olde tavern (lol)

here

just to continue a little longer in this week's sudden tradition of posting words to songs here... lol
(even though I am not a fan at all of of "Sir Elton" -they have been knighting just about anyone that is old enough just to warrant it... eh?). But I am sure the feisty 96 year-old dame likes this one...


Saturday Night's Alright For Fighting Elton John

It's getting late have you seen my mates
Ma tell me when the boys get here
It's seven o'clock and I want to rock
Want to get a belly full of beer

My old man's drunker than a barrel full of monkeys
And my old lady she don't care
My sister looks cute in her braces and boots
A handfull of grease in her hair

Don't give us none of your aggravation
We had it with your discipline
Saturday night's alright for fighting
Get a little action in

Get about as oiled as a diesel train
Gonna set this dance alright
'Cause Saturday night's the night I like
Saturday night's alright alright alright

Well they're packed pretty tight in here tonight
I'm looking for a dolly who'll see me right
I may use a little muscle to get what I need
I may sink a little drink and shout out She's with me!"

A couple of the sound that I really like
Are the sounds of a switchblade and a motorbike
I'm a juvenile product fo the working class
Whose best friend floats in the bottom of a glass
 
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