A Better Tax Day Than Most

On April 15 I did not hang around the Jump Start Sandwich Shop across from the post office watching frantic and sad people hurrying to mail their returns. I was not avoiding Bethann, the Being & Nothingness Cam Project’s accountant. Rather, I was watching the guy set up in front of the post office. He must have been there because of the heavy traffic, but if anyone was paying attention to him they sure as hell didn’t let him know.

He sat behind a TV tray with a little pile of pink paper held down by a rock. Next to him was a giant board made out of the standard-issue piece of mean cardboard handed out to all of The End Is Near folks. It was mounted on a new, first rate flip chart holder, but held down by 3 dirty yellow and black bungee cords. Go figure. The cardboard was covered with hellaciously small writing except for the parts that were in capitol letters in red Sharpie. He must have felt the sorrow we all have when we are so passionate that want more emphasis on something than just bold, capital, underlined, and italicized can provide. No one stopped to talk, because he might actually, you know, talk.

Last Thursday I wasn’t going to be the person who talked to him. It was a public place and all, but I was still concerned about where a talk might go. It wasn’t going to be into Murdered-and-Your-Head-Winds-Up-in-the-Freezer-Land, but it could go into Inviting-a-Jehovah’s-Witness-into-Your-House-for-a-Drink-Land. I went over and was able to position myself slightly to the side of his cardboard treatise, take a quick look, then beat it before he engaged me.

My quick read showed what you might expect: this guy was no optimist. Probably had a crummy sense of humor, too. On the up side he wasn’t mumbling or touching himself inappropriately. The red sharpie phases I remember were:

THE GOLD STANDARD

ABANDONED TO LUNCHROOMS

ASIAN AMERICAN

WILLD CAUGHT [sic]

SHANNEN DOHERTY

MINERELS [sic] (maybe it was MORELS)

DOOR HANDLE

I thought that the pink flyers might say the same thing as his sign, and just as it looked like he might talk I grabbed a flyer and hustled into the post office. The flyer was promoting an independent documentary that was showing next Friday at the Baptist church.

I’m quite pleased that I remembered so many of his phrases. I’m going to work on a few lines that use all seven of them. This was one of those times when you say, Oh, man, I forgot my camera! One picture of that board and I could have been enlightened or horrified for life!

I Took a Sick Day, I Swear

No entry yesterday, and it was not because it was Tax Day and I was hiding from the Being & Nothingness Cam Project accountant Bethann. Not in a sandwich place across the street from the post office watching frantic, tired, and/or angry people running to get their taxes in. No, sir.

No, I've got some sort of flu. Or Really Bad Cold. Or monkey pox. If it's the flu, I'm more in favor of swine flu (I know, H1N1) than avian flu. It's not for any reason other than that I like pigs and they're really smart and they'll keep clean if you let them. This doesn't mean that they aren't darned tasty as well. And swine flu sounds much more dark and adventurous than avian flu.

But talk about adventure: monkey pox! Now you've got something. I may be awesomely wrong, but as I recall you get monkey pox if your pet monkey has been in contact with Gambian rats and then bites you. Or maybe if you get bitten by a vet who's treating a monkey. Or not. I am pretty sure about the Gambian rat part.

To mark the special occasion if I do have monkey pox, Dirk and I have put together a swell song. Dirk is nuts: he comes and visits me when I've contracted a hideous something. He should be outside playing and getting some fresh air.

We've got this so far (it's to the tune of "Lollypop"):

I bought myself a monkey

Who could play with my cat

I didn’t know his best friend

Was a Gambian rat

And now I’ve got that

Now I’ve got that Monkey Pox.

Monkey pox, monkey pox

Oh, monkey, monkey pox

Monkey pox, monkey pox

Oh, monkey, monkey pox

Monkey pox, monkey pox

Now I’ve got that Monkey Pox.

It’s needs a second verse and we’re sort of stuck.

The SAaLI Guys Ask, What's That Blob?

A political email I got today had a large banner that exclaimed, “Primates Matter!” I agree! A second look asserted: Primaries Matter. Dang. Just when I thought this whole email idea was finally getting somewhere.

Less amusing, one of the computer guys wrote me a note in the most appalling handwriting I’ve seen in a quite some time. It looked like it was written by an 84 year-old, but I’m guessing that he’s young and hasn’t had to do much non-computer writing. I’m embarrassed for him, but I doubt that he’s embarrassed for himself.

Dear Ms. Holmes,

We have opened the SAaLI Unit [a Project computer—sort of] and found on the bottom of the unit a slightly raised oval, approximately 3” in diameter, comprised of a dark orange, greasy substance.

Could you please tell us what this is and how it got there?

Sincerely

V.J.

Address

I need more data, because I don’t think that this is statistically possible, but it may be that there are only two answers to everything. One is: Who knows? The other is: It’s Gina’s fault. While it’s true that I lied to the SAaLI designers when I returned the unit to them after it “malfunctioned” (a.k.a., melted), mine were lies of omission and weren’t solidly grounded in time and space—nothing so dreadfully 3-D as a blob.

Rather than have a Being & Nothingness Cam Team meeting, I called each member instead. Hey, do you know about a greasy blob at the bottom of the SAaLI Unit? Something like a hard orange puddle? I know that this is the fourth time someone’s asked you this today, but I have to do my job.

Tom seemed to take it personally, like an accusation; Sia was puzzled; Phaye sounded wary.

Dear Mr. V.J,

For reasons that are too complicated to explain, we had a monkey with us in the office for three days, and it is possible that he pushed some cheddar cheese into one of the computer housing vents. This is a guess, but he was sometimes unattended and I have confirmed that we had cheese around the office.

I hope this is helpful.

Sincerely, etc.

P.S. Did you ever see those funny home videos where the parents discover that their kid has jammed a grilled cheese sandwich into the VCR? They’re a riot.

Tiny Invaders

Ants have invaded the food-free office, so there was my day. They did not come up through the big hole in the floor but rather took the more boring route of poking their way through some tiny slit in the wall and dividing themselves up into a black circulatory system all over the floor. On the up side, I heard small clicking noises along the lines, and when I looked very closely I saw that each ant had a tiny top hat and 3 pairs of tap shoes and were dancing their way along the edges of the walls. This made for unfortunate little squeals when the spiders that had taken up stations over the columns picked them off.

Everyone has an explanation about why ants invade even when there doesn’t seem to be anything inside that would interest them. When it’s cold, the cold has driven them in, or the water if it rains. But then they also invade when it’s too hot out or when it’s too dry. Doesn’t that take care of the whole shebang? What about coming in because they’re tired of cramped living quarters?

I fear the horrible sprays that feel like they're delaminating your lungs, and I think that whoever makes those little plastic ant traps sit and laugh about how we’re suckers. Have you ever once placed a trap and seen ants going in them or anywhere near them? Me neither. I didn’t want to go out to buy something special, so I wiped the trails with wet cloths and rinsed them out in the yard tap. Very low tech, and, yes, yuck. But, in a stroke of genius, I took the only chemical-ly type thing around and sprayed lemon Pledge all over. It dusts and shines as it kills ants. This could be one of those moments—hey! It turns out that lemon Pledge is an insecticide!

I’d better admit, before you loose your trust in me, that they were just regular old ants. No hats or taps. Sorry.

The Masomenis Letter Verbatim and a Surprise

I didn’t post the verbatim letter from the Masomenis Corporation on April 7th because I couldn’t find it. Starting with my July 2008 letter to the Masomenis Corporation about their home defibrillator through to this very day, all Being & Nothingness Cam Project correspondence is handwritten and keeping tract of it has been confusing. What if you were stuck in a world between the pre-Industrial Revolution and the 1980’s? Between raw sewage and Tears for Fears? Imagine a world without typewriters or computers.

It took me a while to realize that sticking letters and xerox’s of letters in the pages of my Webster’s New Universal Unabridged Dictionary couldn’t last. I started filing letters by writer in a little green metal box that I swiped from my sister Rose. It’s the ideal combination: it’s distinctive enough to find easily, small enough to loose easily, and old enough to really hurt yourself on the sharp corners.

The letter reads as follows:

Dear Ms. Holmes,

Thank you for your letter inquiring about the Masomenis Corporation’s TR-250 Home Defibrillator. We appreciate that you have specific questions about the use of the TR-250 and we are certainly happy to answer them. Per your request I have not enclosed a pamphlet answering the FAQ’s about the TR-250 but you will find a second brochure showing other home medical products made by the Masomenis Corporation.

We pride ourselves on our personal service and attention to each of our clients and I can understand that you believe that you have specific needs associated with this product. As you can see we respond to all questions in detail, but I would like to say emphatically that we do not recommend the TR-250 for use on any living thing besides humans. If you have additional questions please contact us at the address below.

Yours in health,

Raymond Horn, DLT

Address

That was the whole letter. First, what did “DLT” stand for? And second, a TR-250 is a kind of sports car. You can see that the letter is polite, appreciative, and useless. If the letter hadn’t been handwritten you would think that several paragraphs had been accidentally deleted. It looked like they were blowing me off. This letter spurred me into trying to find the Masomenis Corporation online to send an indignant email about their lack of information regarding a product I was never going to buy and then finding that they no longer existed anywhere on the web.

When I looked over this letter I saw that something was written on the back that I didn’t notice earlier. In pencil it says, “Most of the dust in your house is human skin.” Oh, lord. If I had noticed this when I first received the letter would that have been good or bad?