The neighbors were not pleased

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houseI just woke up from a most entertaining dream. One in which I bought a rather large house somewhere. As I was looking through my new home, people kept showing up, and I didn’t have a clue as to who they were or why they were there. I had to run off a group of 20-something street kids who were apparently letting themselves in the side gate to use a bathroom that had a door to the side yard. There was a nice, sane guy who was doing something in the kitchen… I think he was preparing lunch, but I’m not sure, he was possibly washing vegetables in the sink. He was like a narrator, telling me things about the house, the neighbors, and the neighborhood in general. The kitchen had two of those island grills stations you see in Japanese restaurants, the kind where the chefs cook your food right in front of you. I thought it was a bit odd to have two of them, but there they were.

There were a nice couple of older ladies who I found in a parlor-type room who were apparently there to clean, or maybe get it ready for a cotillion-like affair (it’s a rather large, rambling, yet modern, house). The gentleman with them seemed non-plussed to see me, which was odd, since it was my house.

The house was laid out oddly, with rooms in strange arrangements. There was an upstairs bathroom that had a hole drilled in the counter that looked directly down into the master bedroom. When I saw that, I thought to myself, “well, that’s not good. I’ll have to fix that.”

Then, the door bell rang. What now??

A man and a woman were standing there, and while he seemed a bit sheepish, she was clearly upset about something.  She made it clear that she was not happy to see me owning this house in her neighborhood. How did she know I wouldn’t be a “good fit”? My car was a six cylinder (my Taurus was sitting in the driveway). The look on the man’s face was pretty much “I have to live with her”.

I smirked and told her, “well, wait until you see the antennas I’m going to put up… I’m a ham radio operator!” I grinned at her, as she was working up to what I’m sure would have been an apoplectic scene, but I closed the door and returned to my narrator at the kitchen sink. He apologized for them, and was saying something about the area as I wandered off into another part of the house.

I had the feeling that things were just about to get really weird/interesting as I walked out of the kitchen.

Then I woke up. I was mildly disappointed that it had been a dream. Clearly the guy in the kitchen warranted more investigation, and I wanted to get those antennas mounted on the roof quickly.

 

 

‘Till the cows come home

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devin_nunes_twitter_cow_parody

Washington, D.C. does something to people. Especially government people. I don’t know when it happened to Devin Nunes, but somewhere along the line, possibly about the time Barack Obama was elected President, Nunes dove into the deep end, and he’s not yet come up for air.

From the bottom of the sump pond that is Washington politics, nastier than any
dairy lagoon, he’s now suing a fake cow, and a honey bee. He’s up to 400 million dollars, claiming that his reputation has been impugned. He asserts that Twitter has “shadow banned” him (which Twitter denies*), and that a few parody accounts, which didn’t have much of a following until *after* his lawsuits were filed, tweeted mean things about him. He’s also suing The Fresno Beeclaiming they lied about him (they did not), and knew the things they were printing were lies (but he never responded to The Bee’s repeated attempts to contact him for rebuttal or comment).

So, that’s $250 million against Twitter, a fake cow, and a fake Nunes’ mom account. That action by Nunes generated endless parody accounts, and now we have everything from Devin Nunes’ Gay Cow, to his cat, his cow’s attorney, his “dad“, his “grandma“, the drag queen, and his skin (still thin, according to the one Tweet). Another $150 million against McClatchy and the Bee. For reporting about a drug-and-prostitute fueled party boat in the San Joaquin Delta, hosted by a winery in which Nunes owns stock. One can argue whether the story was worth pursuing, but The Bee reported factually, and Nunes refused to comment on it when the paper tried to contact him about it. His go-to, now, is the same as Trump’s: “FAKE NEWS!!”

While Nunes occupies his time suing a fake cow and his local newspaper, his district still has serious water issues, high unemployment numbers, high poverty levels, pollution, bad roads, and gang problems. Maybe he should devote some of his time to serving his constituents, and leave the bees and the cows alone.

*it’s amazing how many people in the top spots of government have no clue how things like Twitter work, and why people might not see a posting. Algorithms are apparently much too complex a concept for them to grasp.  

I may have worked my last night shift

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face-screaming-in-fear I may have worked my last night shift.

After 24 1/2 years, almost all of them on night shift, Monday begins the next rotation, to day shifts. I’m not looking forward to it.

My first three months, way back in the summer of 1994, were on dayshift during my training. Once released (yes, three whole months of training back then), I went to swing shift, 5pm to 3am. I stayed there, with a couple of switches to graveyard (9pm to 7am), until October of 2017, when we began our new 12 hour shifts.  That put me on days, 6 am to 6 pm.  After six months of that mess, my team rotated to nights. Now it’s that time again, and back we go to days.

But why may I have worked my last night shift? Because by the time we rotate back to nights, I hope to be retired!

July or September, depending on a few things. But regardless, I hope to be out of there before we rotate back to nights.

That also means I’ll never work in a new dispatch center. By the time one gets up and running, I’ll be long retired. Sigh.

Oh well.

Road trip!

 

“At the tone, the time will be…”

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04042019

These kind of things are going to make an old man out of me!

… to f’n late in my day.

A mandatory meeting for work, held three hours after getting off a twelve hour shift.

In a 9-1-1 center.

I should be sound asleep now, but duty calls. Or something like that.

Good thing I love my job. (most of the time)

Don’t bother me later, I’ll be asleep!