Good morning. Hello. How are you? #1147
Small scale legal capitalist predations, Emma's birthday, my LJ's birthday, the indignity of grocery store deli counters, José Andrés naturalization, robotic trash arms anxiety, cherry blossoms
Good morning. Hello. Hi. How are you? All good? Are you being played by the legal component of capitalism today? Well today is the day I fight back. Sort of. I returned a bag of slimy cucumbers to the grocery store and got my $5.99 back (they were organic). I am very proud of myself. Normally I would just let capitalism despoil me in these situations. Bend over and take it. My god, the number of things I have ordered and realized were not right and then not returned. Or have taken just a bit too long to realize it wasn’t right, usually because I didn’t get around to opening it. Or not bought the warranty when I should have. Or bought it when I shouldn’t have. Warranties, man. Speaking of which I am still searching for that one human being who has ever purchased ticket protection from Ticketmaster/Allianz and actually used it. Now if I could just figure out how to contact DoorDash to get my $4.99 back for that cup of queso last night. Were god to exist, I always picture him, well, St. Peter, giving us the ability to ask any unknowable question and getting an exact answer as part of heaven’s rewards. Sometimes I imagine it to be just one question. Sometimes I imagine it to be eternal. But one question I would definitely ask is: how much money have I been ripped off by delivery services for not delivering food I paid for. I bet it is in the thousands. At least when you buy some dumb thing on Amazon that you end up not needing, you can sell it on eBay at a discount or leave it at the PTA thrift store or the local community free pile and know that some scavenger has picked it up and sold it on, that it will get used, that someone, somewhere, will make a buck off of it. And you can twist the story so that your own suckerdom is repositioned as charity. But when Doordash doesn’t give you your queso and despite working on the internet for thirty years you can’t figure out how to get a refund? Well. You are the chump. No two ways around it.
(Someone has figured out GMHHAY)
Listening to a newish album from the Kranky Records electro ambient ensemble Pan·American (option shift-9 on the Mac for that dot) and noted producer of Galaxie 500 and Low, as well as founder of Shimmy Disc records and former bandmate to Ann Magnusum, Kramer. Kramer and Pan·American made an album together. It is so weird. Well, the fact they did it is weird. The album sounds like a Pan·American album. Except not really because the last few Pan·American records have been really electronic and this one has more guitar again, maybe more like their predecessor band Labradford. Anyway, it rules.
Jane and I were a little late today, didn’t get to the school till 7:33. There was a line. Jane had a lot of knots in her hair, took some coaxing to brush it. Aggro van and G Wagon were not there but there was a new, super nice black Ford passenger van and another super nice, ultra-tall Sprinter. It would be hilarious if G Wagon lady had a Sprinter as her backup car. That would make my day. Lydia, this paragraph was for you.
But mostly a ton of Teslas, Teslas everywhere. Every time I get back from Somerville, I think about how many more Teslas there are around here than in liberal Boston. Just so many Teslas. An entire generation of kids being raised in Teslas. What will become of them. Will we refer to them as “Tesla babies” when they’re older? Will we mock the parents like we mocked Depression Grannies, before they came back in vogue?
(If you haven’t read the new Elon lawsuit transcript boy is it something. Except don’t. Spare yourself).
Emma’s birthday was swell, thank you for asking. She went to the mall with a friend and spent the day there chatting and shopping and eating at the food court and honestly that sounds like a pretty sick birthday.
I was thinking just a few minutes ago about how I should take my birthday off and drive to Charlotte to the Dewalt service center and get my miter saw fixed, which has a broken transmission. I am so ripshit about this (this would be a great joke were it a ripsaw. Perhaps I’m mitershit.) The thing was the highest-rated miter saw, absolutely stellar reviews, affordable, and it lasted like six months. But getting to Charlotte is a giant pain. Though now I have a friend there I guess. But I just don’t want to do it. And miter saws are too big to ship. So lately I’ve been thinking “well, when you get to the studio remodel you could arguably use two miter saws for a year or so so maybe just buy another one so you have a miter saw now, get to taking the old one to Charlotte eventually, then you can sell one after the studio remodel” and then I can fashion a sort of noble, non chumpy narrative about how I haven’t been taken for $600. And I get kind of into it. Then I start researching miter saws again and think “ooo maybe this time I’ll get a Festool” and then I see the price and read the reviews and it is abundantly clear I should buy a Dewalt miter saw and then suddenly I am the chump again. And I have been stick in this loop for a good three months now, all the while desperately needing a miter saw and not having one.
Gen X self-loathing crack, right there.
Oh right Emma’s birthday. I got her, aw fuck, I got her a Dewalt tool, lol. But I mean, Dewalt is good! Milwaukee’s too expensive and it’s posing unless you’re a contractor who cares about top speed and eternal durability! Festool is impossible to obtain without, like, going to an actual physical store, and it’s even more expensive! Ryobi is… fine, and they have a better OPE selection but we are already stuck in the ecosystem here! Anyway, I got her the Dewalt 8” baby chainsaw and it is so cute. And a Hello Kitty case for her Nintendo Switch. And a copy of the new reissue of Songs in the Key of X: Music from the X Files on vinyl with the exclusive alternate lyric version of Nick Cave’s “Do you love me?” And a bag of Doritos. And a tin of sleepytime edibles. And an ice cream cake.
Tell me that is not a good birthday haul.
Speaking of birthdays happy 21st birthday to my Livejournal. You can drink now. And boy, should you. LJ, man. The best thing the internet gave us. Except even then, ahem LJ Drama dot org, you could see the evil internet forming, slowly coalescing like the evil terminator played by the brother of the guy in Filter in the steel factory in Terminator 2. Trolling and harassment and faux outrage and clickbaiting. It was all there. But the thing about LJ is it was ignorable, they didn’t stick it in your face because some algorithm wanted to goad you on. There were no algorithms! Everything was linear! It ruled.
Except now it’s a Russian psyop, alas. Sucks.
Yesterday was trash day and every trash day I get annoyed because I place the trash can in one place and the trash people place it back in another place, and the place they put it sort of blocks the driveway, at least when the turn radius on your douchetruck is as bad as mine. But then the other day I saw them get the trash and it turns out their trash truck has this awesome robotic trash arm on it that grabs the can and dumps it into the truck and now I am so into it. Except now it’s on me to find the perfect place to set the trash can, so that when it puts the can back down in a slightly different place, about 3 feet to the left, it does not block my driveway. I am ready for and accept this challenge. This is my 80’s adventure movie, someone sign up Toto or Limahl for the soundtrack.
(Just this second, while I Googled where Limahl put the L in his name, did I learn that “Neverending Story” was a Limahl/Giorgio Morodor collaboration. Explains a lot).
Anyway, yesterday was good. Work chores, human chores, gardening chores, family chores. Two grocery stores. The fuckin deli counter, what is with the deli counter. I don’t want to get all Seinfeld on you but isn’t it weird there are always like ten people behind the counter and you always have to wait? I mean, unless there’s a line, then there are ten people behind the counter, two people in front of you, and you still have to wait. The way they studiously ignore you. And you think “well maybe they all have different jobs and there’s an eleventh person who’s in back who is supposed to help me and they will be here in a second,” but nope, eventually one of the ten finishes some obviously not pressing task and comes and asks you what you want and you were just humiliated all for the low low price of $15.99 because Boar’s Head is a monopoly not that Lina Khan cares about that one.
And then! The deli, even though it has, like 10 people working behind it, has this sign in the morning – not open till 9. Even though the grocery store opens at 6. And there are ten people back there. You need three hours to get ready to cut my chicken?
But then! Sometimes they’re like “oh yeah it’s not 9 yet but we can help you with that, it’s easy” and you feel like you won the god damned lottery.
Except then! A week later you think you have an in with the Deli people now, and you’re one of those cool people who knows that “not open till 9” sign doesn’t really mean anything, like the “do not duplicate” on keys. And then you try and get your chicken before 9 AM the next week.
Except nope. Back to 10 people ignoring you. Turns out the whole thing was an elaborate psy-op. Probably Russian.
Also who on earth would the deli choose to miss rush hour? So weird.
Man that deli thing has been bothering me for months now good to get it off my chest.
Man this Kramer Pan·American album is great.
Harkening back to several issues back about how José Andrés should be VP (or, fuck it, president), a friend wrote me to tell me that José Andrés is a naturalized American so he can’t be VP or President. I actually thought that naturalized citizens could be VP, but it was risky since they couldn’t serve as president in a time of need. But I could be wrong on that. Anyway, she knows this because she happened upon his naturalization ceremony on the steps of the capitol in DC and got a picture with him, which is so so cool.
Also, the person who wrote all this to me is an immigration lawyer, which is great but also hilarious because when I wrote that whole thing wondering “do immigration lawyers say ‘revert’?”, (lotta punctuation in a row there but I think that’s right?) she was the one I was hoping would answer. But she didn’t. And I thought “oh that’s all right I guess she doesn’t read GMHHAY not like it’s a law” except now I know she does. Mysterious. But the joke’s on her and that Russian psy op failed because another friend asked another immigration lawyer and no, it turns out that immigration lawyers do not say “revert.”
Another follow-up. We did, in fact, miss most of the cherry blossom tree this year. I mean, there are still a good number of blossoms on it, but they are already falling off. We missed the peak, and I am bereft. Here is a photo. So sad.
(I just went out to take that photo and there was a landscaper trimming a hedge and boy we both just startled the heck out of each other.)
SNL was so good last weekend. Finally just watched it. Man, that episode could hold a candle to any past golden era. Every sketch (except maybe one) was golden. Jumanji belongs in the Smithsonian. Best Weekend Update in quite some time. Even the musical guest, Raye, hit exactly like you want it to: wow she had some amazing lyrics. Never heard of her. Learned something. Loved it. A+ would do it again.
Was gonna complain about my assorted maladies today as a first step towards a new cycle of doctors, but we can wait for tomorrow for that one. This GMHHAY already has enough. I hope you are a satisfied customer today. Please fill out this short survey.
Today’s Media of the Day is a playlist. It is 90 seconds short, I am sorry. Just noticed it had two Chappell Roan songs on it, we are gonna stick with one. It starts with a great one-two punch of two songs that came on in the truck this morning and I forgot how great they both are. My god that Courtney’s song rules. Also thank you Sean Drinkwater for teaching me about Donny Benét I am a fan. And that Adrienne Lenker song is so, so good. I don’t know what it is I was never a giant fan but I love this new record.
I hope your day is splendiferous. Until tomorrow.