Not meaning to brag-but my frequent readers are in the top 10% of the smartest, best looking and most intuitive hominids in the U.S. Between the Title and the following two words, they will understand this post.
Postcard Mania.
Thank you, and as my friend Sam used to say on TV, “tires ain’t pretty”.
Most people know what a vulture is. We, in the south, call them buzzards.
Most people also know that slugs wear too much hair grease and leave little trails of it behind them.
Through the magic of copy and paste (from Urban Dictionary), I’m teaching y’all a new word today-stupodic.
Stupodic
stupid-idiot(ic) (n or adj); this can refer to a person or an act;
the complete opposite of genius
That guy is stupodic.
The war in Iraq is stupodic.
Although Albert Einstein was a genius to most people, when it came to basic math, he was stupodic.”
This word just rolls off of my tongue and will, from this day forth, be my favorite word. When I’m driving, I’ll call people stupodic instead of the things that my grandchildren say are “bad words, Pappy”. When a particular subcontractor, supplier or consultant does not meet a deadline, it’ll sound much better to say stupodic than what I usually say. This word has more than 4 letters. Ergo, it is socially acceptable in most circumstances. Yep…I like it.
My big question is, “How in Sam Hell did we let new car dealerships get in the control of aliens from the planet Coo Coo”?
Why were there no less than 20 buzzards in white shirts on the lot where an innocent couple pulled off the road to look at new cars in the comfort of their broke-down POS? Why was the buzzard that jumped on the hood of Ole Yeller flailing his arms and yelling, “how may I assist you fine folks today” with Bob Marley’s accent? Why was his butt so high off the ground that it didn’t match the top half of his body? Why was his shirt collar sized for Mike Tyson when his neck was the same measurement as a Great Blue Heron’s? As if that wasn’t spooky enough, why did he lift his feet straight up above his knees when he walked like Boris Karloff on that old black and white movie? What do the buzzards do when there ain’t nobody on the lot? How many buzzards does it take to flag down one couple? Okay, I’ll admit it…that last one was rhetorical.
Why did the only normal person there talk about his Corvette the whole time we were looking at a 50 MPG box?
Why did that guy and the slugs trade heiroglyphics and get all animated when they talked while we were inside resting?
How did those slugs get past homeland security and the airport xray when they came here from Coo Coo? Where do the slugs go when they aren’t in the cage in the middle of the showroom? Why was the tallest slug the boss of them all and of the salesman?
And, how did the slugs get so stupodic?
I ain’t too proud to admit that my algebra skills are sorely lacking and that I never attempted trigonometry. But, the stupodic slugs from Coo Coo can’t do simple math and I can. Mrs Loving Beauty sat there with her mouth open and her eyes slightly rolled in the back of her head when the salesman came back with the first “offer” from the slugs as well. She can count too.
Who in tarnation would ever trade and get taken just because they could afford the payment? Evidently everyone that ever goes to that dealership except me and Mrs Loving Beauty because that’s what the slug kept asking, “can you afford that payment”. And every time that I piped up to say something like, “you dumb alien slug, that ain’t got nothing to do with the price of that car”, I got a kick and the stink eye from Loving. And everybody that walked by couldn’t believe that the slug was standing there holding a piece of paper and an eighty dollar pen and I wasn’t signing nothing.
Why do the aliens try to confuse you with crap like, black book value, blue book value, secondary market, wholesale, retail and auctions? If you are looking for a fair trade, why do they talk about payments? How can they look straight in your eyes and talk Coo Coo? Why do they always answer a question with a question?
Why did the stupodic slug think that I’d stay there another ten minutes after I’d heard him spewing senseless terms and numbers for the last hour?
I heard a radio commercial from the country station in Orlando today that was hollering about a car dealership over there that’ll let you buy a car on the internet. I believe that I’ll check up on that and stay away from being right in the same room with stupodic slugs.
You never know. Stupodic slugism from the planet Coo Coo may be contagious.
I went through a period in my youth where I considered going to law school. In those days, Sociology was an acceptable undergraduate degree to have as a prerequisite. So, I ‘double-majored’ in business and sociology. It’s is no surprise, then, when I have random thoughts about why as a society we gravitate toward certain things. Things like becoming Publix Snobs.
At the end of March, I was fortunate enough to be in a group of 17 friends from the Indialantic/Indian Harbour Beach area to vacation in the Florida Keys. We rented 3 houses in the same neighborhood and inhabited them by family group, with each family being responsible to provide the dinner repast for the entire herd, at least once. It was during a grocery shopping trip for one of these feasts that I accused friend Derrian of being a Publix Snob. To which she freely admitted-to no one’s surprise!
Friends, frequent readers, freaks and fossils, we all have become grocery shopping snobs of some sort. We’ve had to for various reasons. There is a Winn-Dixie, Publix, Aldi, Wal-Mart, Target, or other regional/national grocery store in every 4-mile radius. Our peers shop at these stores. Smaller stores are ethnic, have the mom-and-pop syndrome, aren’t as modern, are not as convenient, or? In short smaller stores, markets, have no snob appeal to the majority of the populace.
As I look back on my shopping habit history, there are distinct periods of evolution and regression. Let me explain. When I was a carefree boy at home, most of my shopping was candy and soda at Pop Malloy’s or the Davis Grocery. Both of these wood buildings sold kerosene and gasoline in addition to groceries and were owned by local families. These were the precursors to 7-11 stores. At that time, Mama shopped at the corner produce market and Winn-Dixie downtown. Then, a Publix was built close to home and Mama and Daddy shopped there for convenience. When my wife started shopping for our family, I was building Winn-Dixies for a living and the choice for buying groceries was simple. Spend your money where you make it. With slight deviations, concentrating on Piggly-Wiggly, Wal-Mart, Kroger, Save-a-Lot, or Publix, that remained my habit until recently.
Fast forward to the beginning of May when Angela and I changed our diet to exclude all processed foods, all grains, etc. to concentrate on lean meats, fresh fruits and fresh vegetables. We are back at local markets for the freshness and cost savings.
So far, we have found 2 fantastic markets where food is fresher, prices are considerably lower than snobby stores and ethnicity is evident but not oppressive in any way. One of these markets offers two free glasses of beer while you shop! By comparison, we should get a 6-pack at the bigger, more expensive stores. I’m not talking about roadside markets, rather well established stores with carts, parking lots, and lots staple items.
Please stop here and re-read the paragraph above. Need I say more than “food is fresher, prices are considerably lower”? Okay, here’s the numbers for those who need me to say more. We spent less than $60 last week and less than $50 this week for all of the fresh vegetables and fruit we can eat. I’ve even bought extra fruit and vegetables to dehydrate for snacks in these numbers.
Do we drive a little further? Yes.
Do we need to keep an eye behind us for the mad shoppers and choo-choos in the smaller aisles who know what they want and will run over anyone in their way? Yes.
Are the stores a little less modern? Yes
Is it worth the freshness and savings? Hell Yes.
My common sense and my sense of adventure says that shopping at markets is smart and fun. Now if I can just find a meat market that’s affordable. I’ll be able to pass all of those big box stores and my peers in them who are paying more and getting less.
Faithful readers already know that I prefer Lowes to Home Depot. This has reversed completely over the past 7 years or so. What I mean is that I used to love Home Depot and now my attention is elsewhere.
Yesterday, I needed to replace a worn-out tool. Do any of you become attached to your tools like I do? Do the memories flood into your mind when you notice the blue paint from the ceiling you painted in 2000? Or the chunk out of the plastic housing near the bottom that your grand-daughter cried about when you yelled at her for hitting the electronic tool with a hammer while you were helping your daughter and son-in-law with their first room addition. Or the soldered battery lead that broke and was repaired the same day you sliced your hand open with a box knife? Mine do. I hate it when tools wear out and the memories have to be put in the shed along with all of the other things that don’t work-but that you can’t bear to send to the landfill.
So, after driving to Northern Tool to find out that they only carry it online…not in the stores. I remembered seeing a Homey ad for it and went there. Buzzard Breath was stocking saw blades and after a brief excursion by myself, I asked him to help. He had no knowledge of the inventory in his section. He first said that they didn’t carry Zircon tools. When I pointed to a large display of them, he actually became indignant. I allowed the requisite 1.5 seconds of undivided attention to be polite and then marched off, heavy-footed like a Nazi slamming down my flip-flops as hard as I could without hurting my heels, to the tool rental department where, as I suspected, I found an intelligent and helpful homo sapien. He confirmed that they carry the tool online, but not in the stores.
My wife was sleeping in the car during both of these forays. But when we neared her favorite Publix, she sat straight up and announced that we needed to stop for a few things. Ninety four dollars and thirty four minutes later I shuffled back out and went straight to Lowe’s where I found the tool that I needed (without assistance). Floated in, then floated out-no pain no bother.
Just like my friends two wives that needed to be removed with all the agony, pomp and ceremony of lancing a boil, I have good reason to stop giving Homey access to my disposable income. Common sense dictates that you have an enjoyable experience when you part with your hard-earned scheckels in both circumstances don’t it?