1. Right wing absurdity. According to some subset of American religio-conservatives, Taylor Swift is the devil… or if not the actual devil, certainly in league with him as her songs are full of Christian imagery that “supports demonic lifestyles.” The Bible is the most published book in history. Christian imagery is literally everywhere – fiction, nonfiction, film, music. It’s impossible to escape. I’m not sure it’s so much about not liking Tay or her music as it is some people being uncomfortable that a strong, beautiful woman could buy and sell them 1000 times over and refuses to “stick to the script.” In my estimation we could use more of that rather than less. But then again, maybe I’m in league with the devil too, so buyer beware or whatever.
2. Ghosted again. Look, no one knows I’m hard to live with better than I do. I’m opinionated and set in my ways. I don’t know what the cool new restaurant is, and I don’t care. On any given day I’d much rather be home than wherever it is that people go these days. Living that life isn’t for everyone, I get it. But seriously, the ghosting is getting absurd. I should probably just stick with books and animals, because people are increasingly insufferable.
3. Maryland EZ Pass. Oh, hey, My Maryland EZ Pass billing is all screwed up again. This month, it decided that 2 of 5 trips across the Susquehanna should be billed against my tag instead of my EZ Pass. It’s only $16, but month in and month out there’s consistently a problem with the system. Instead of being seamless, EZ Pass takes constant time and effort to make sure I’m not getting swindled out of a couple of hundred dollars by the end of the year. I’m not entirely sure where the problem lies but it feels like a combination of raw incompetence and a blatant cash grab at the behest of the state of Maryland. In either case it’s just one of those problems that ought not to exist… but that’s assuming anyone with the ability to fix the problems actually gives a damn. That feels unlikely given how long the billing errors have persisted.
Tag Archives: people
This is how it ends for me (probably)…
I’ve managed to avoid the Great Plague for the last three years. Staying home and avoiding crowded places wasn’t exactly a radical departure from my normal lifestyle. Still, I’m sure that was the secret to my success at entirely missing a dread virus that ripped around the world leaving millions dead in its wake.
If I’m going to at long last be brought low by whatever COVID variant is now quietly circulating out there, I’m entirely sure I’m now deeply ensconced in the petri dish that will give it to me. I’m sitting here with up to 700 assholes who just couldn’t wait to show up and hang out in an auditorium breathing stagnant air while some other bunch of assholes reads them slides word for word for 8 hours a day across three successive days.
What reptilian brain fuckery drives people to want to show up and sit around when the information could be entirely available on a basic website or, gods forbid, through an online meeting, I will never, ever understand. As far as I’m concerned, the “human element” is entirely overrated.
This is the classic meeting that could have been an email writ extraordinarily large.
What Annoys Jeff this Week?
1. AFGE Local 1904. Here we are 29 weeks past the “end of max telework” and the union, such as it is, still hasn’t come through on delivering the new and improved telework agreement. So, we’re still grinding along with only two days a week like pre-COVID barbarians… as if 30 months of operating nearly exclusively through telework didn’t prove that working from home works. All this is ongoing while hearing stories of other organizations tucked in next door that are offering their people four or five day a week work from home options. It’s truly a delight working for the sick man of the enterprise. I’m sure someone could make the case that there’s enough blame to go around, but since the updated and perfectly acceptable policy for supervisors was published 29 weeks ago, I’m going to continue to go ahead and put every bit of blame on Local 1904 for failing to deliver for their members (and those of us who they “represent” against our will) and for continuing to stand in the way like some bloody great, utterly misguided roadblock. No one’s interest is served by their continued intransigence. The elected “leaders” of AFGE Local 1904 should be embarrassed and ashamed of themselves.
2. Feet. You’ll never make me understand foot fetishists. Feet are, in a word, disgusting. They’re a necessary evil. Mine, however, are doubly annoying because they’re both disgusting and not working properly. I was diagnoses with plantar fasciitis about 15 years ago. The podiatrist ordered me up a set of shoe inserts and I went on about my life. Periodically, though, there’s flare up. There never seems to be a rhyme or reason for when or why it sets in. I’m in the midst of one of these flares as I write this. For the last week or two, some days have been better, some worse. The more time I spend on my feet on any given day, the worse it gets. Given that this week and next are going to be heavy on the standing up and shuffling around for long stretches at a time, I reckon by the end of next week, I’ll just go ahead and collapse and stay wherever I fall… because I’ve spent so much of this week trying to favor my stupid left foot, I’ve gotten my hips, back, shoulders, and neck thrown out of whack and giving off sympathy pains. So yes, feet are entirely disgusting.
3. The public. One of the many “other duties as assigned” that’s part of my annual party planning fiasco is interfacing with “the public” via email. They’re hopelessly predictable. The most popular question year after year is variations on “Hey, I know your site says tickets are sold out, but can I show up anyway?” or “Oh, I see that you have a list of acceptable forms of identification. I don’t have any of those but I do have a passport from Yugoslavia, will that work?” The best are the people who ask the same question in four or five different ways and then act appalled and surprised when they get the exact same response every time. I have many skills and talents, but I’m simply not built for customer service. Perhaps I would be if the general public were slightly less stupid and obnoxious, but since they’re not, I’ll continue to treat them with barely veiled disdain and disgust.
A triennial event…
One of the items on my short list of things to do while I was in Western Maryland over President’s Day weekend ended up being purchasing and installing a new printer at the Jeffrey Tharp Childhood Home, Library, and Gift Shop. That’s an easy enough ask. The catch, because, of course there’s a catch, is that by the time I learned this activity was on my to do list, it was too late to order something up from Amazon and have it shipped to meet me on site.
This turn of events led to my first visit to a Walmart since about two weeks before the Great Plague broke widely into news reports and the popular consciousness. What I can tell you for sure is that after the better part of three years of avoiding Walmart, the experience in no way made me want to go back on a regular basis.
Too loud. Too many people wandering around oblivious with no obvious sense of purpose or direction. Basically, too much of every bad thing I’ve spent the plague years trying my best to weed out of my life more or less permanently. Some of that, I’m sure, was driven by the fact that I was there late on a Saturday morning, but still…
I might not be able to avoid Walmart for the rest of my days, but I’ll be perfectly happy if I’m able to limit myself to visiting no more than once every three years. Even longer would be preferable. I’ve gotten very good at projecting requirements in advance and teeing them up for Amazon same or next day delivery. There’s nothing in my recent experience that would lead me towards wanting to shift away from that in favor of regular trips into the belly of the beast.
I need it to feel longer…
I spent most of the day mulling over how it could possibly have been Monday again already. I suppose it comes fast when the weekend lasts approximately 37 minutes. I made my usual and customary early run to the local grocery store, stopped at Lowe’s to resupply on bird seed, and then made my way home to pull up the drawbridge. It’s the same basic rhythm that’s ruled life here since the earliest days of 2020.
It was a weekend filled with reading, cooking, and generally puttering around the house with the animals. The last person I had to contend with face to face was the supermarket cashier. Unless something slips from the rails, she’ll have been the last person I see “in person” until the next time I wander in to the office. It’s a real thing of beauty if one of your big objectives is not dealing with the general public unless it’s absolutely necessary.
The consequence, it seems, of being entirely pleased and satisfied with the state of things is that these glorious “off” days is the perceived speed at which they pass. Days feel like they’ve become hours – like there’s barely a pause between Friday and Monday.
My question, then, is there some way to consciously slow it down? Do I have to fill the weekend with activities I loathe to give the impression that I’ve gotten a full 48 hours? What’s it going to take to make weekends feel like more than a speed bump on the route to Monday? There must be a secret… and I need it.
I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed…
Inconsistency makes me just a little bit crazy. This week, I’ve seen two heavily commented on social media posts that were, for lack of a better term, triggering.
The first, from the NRA, was a post singing the praises of an Iowa school district that had decided to allow some portion of its teachers to carry a firearm inside the school. I don’t have any deep philosophical problems with that if people are willing and able, but I was amazed at the number of far-right commenters arguing that all teachers should be armed or that it should be required in all school districts. I suspect that a fair number of them were the same people who over the course of the Great Plague were busy calling out teachers as groomers, screaming bloody murder about “unsuitable” books in the classroom, and raging that teacher’s sole purpose was to indoctrinate impressionable young minds into a vast leftist conspiracy. Suddenly, teachers are the last, best guardians of their children. If that’s not inconsistent, I have no idea what is.
The second post, once again related to guns, was a bland piece stating emphatically that only the police should have “high powered” weapons. The comments are exactly what you’d expect – agreement right down the line from precisely the same people who during the Great Plague shouted themselves hoarse that the police couldn’t be trusted and should be defunded and disbanded. Either the police are a trusted agent to apply state sanctioned force or they’re not. The alternative illustrated by this particular meme seems to be that the police are wildly untrustworthy, but absolutely should be armed well beyond the ability of any citizen or group of citizens to resist their power. I can’t be the only one that sees the logical conflict here, right?
Given the level of engagement with both of the subject posts, I can only assume that applying even some cursory analysis to ideas isn’t something most people do regardless of where on the political divide they fall. That probably shouldn’t be surprising at this point… and I’m really not surprised in any traditional sense of the word. I’ve long since given up on the vast mass of people being anything other than dumber than dog shit.
None of this sad tale of woe is a surprise, but it can’t help but be a disappointment.
A look back, fondly…
I miss the early days of the Great Plague. Chalk that up to yet another unpopular opinion, but I said what I said.
I miss the complete lack of traffic on the roads during those moments when I couldn’t avoid leaving the house. I miss the wide berth that everyone gave one another as they scurried through the grocery store, masked, and avoiding eye contact. I miss living my best life “safer at home.”
For a guy who has never had much use for people at the very best of times, those days were a glimpse into a world I never imagined could exist. Despite the lingering threat of sudden and unexpected death lurking on the breath of every passerby, my blood pressure went down and my general level of annoyance became almost entirely manageable. You might even be forgiven for taking the impression that I enjoyed it.
Look, I’m not sociopathic enough to advocate for having ongoing, continuous waves of deadly virus spreading around the world just to make me more comfortable, but it has painted me a picture of a world that could be. The lately departed plague season feels increasingly like a preview of the world I’d want to build myself once I get past the stage of life that involves trading time for money. After that it’s venture out for food, venture out for books, and to hell with most everything else.
I wouldn’t have suspected it at the time, but it seems that those first, uncertain days of the plague will be the ones I look back on most fondly.
What Annoys Jeff this Week?
1. Eye strain. My eyes aren’t getting worse, the doc tells me. My prescription hasn’t changed now in three years. In response to my complaint about not being able to read deep into the night like I used to, “Your eyes are just getting old,” he says with a grin and the hint of a chuckle. Apparently looking at a computer all day and trying to read all night, is just straining the hell out of them, which is what’s making the world go all blurry after 8 PM every night. The fix, maybe, is to add a set of reading glasses to my current bifocal order. Theoretically, that will mean when I’m reading in the evenings, I won’t have to keep looking down through the bottom third of my lenses. If that doesn’t do it, we’ll order a set that really magnifies instead of just adjusting the focus for my crummy vision. I’d pretend to be indignant, but at this point I’m willing to try most anything to get the situation corrected or even just improved.
2. Autumn. We’ll see the first few hours of autumn today. I don’t particularly mind the onset of cooler weather, but I resent the hell out of the days getting shorter. If feels like losing a lot more than we’re gaining for the trouble. This time of year always comes along with a certain nagging black dog. History tells me he’ll be around for the next 10 or 12 weeks. I’ll perk up a bit at the solstice, when we’ve gone over the hump and days lengthen instead of grow shorter – with its promise of gaining something rather than losing it. Until then, I’ll simply go through the day with a slightly increased baseline level of aggravation. It’s probably not so much that anyone would notice, but I’ll damned well know it.
3. People. Donald Trump is easy to mock. He’s a twice impeached reality television star-in-chief who spent his final days in office plotting the undoing of our republican form of government and when caught red handed begged his followers not to believe the evidence seen by their own lying eyes. As we’ve learned over the last seven years of his candidacy, his term of office, and his post-presidential career, that’s just Donald being Donald. The really troublesome bit is the people, who despite all evidence – or perhaps because of it – still rally to the call of this disgraced carnival barker. Make no mistake, there’s still enough of them, added to critical mass of those who are simply ambivalent, that it’s entirely possible he’ll be on the ballot two years from now. You can’t blame the former host of The Celebrity Apprentice for that part. It’s only a possibility because people are gullible, too invested in the narrative to be open to new information, or too stuck on their pride to admit they’ve been misled and find another way ahead.
That was predictable…
Back at the beginning of the Great Plague many animal shelters and rescues couldn’t meet the demand of people wanting to bring a dog, cart, or other small animal into their homes. That’s a great problem to have if you’re in the business of trying to get animals off the street or out of hoarding situations. Even as it was happening, I imagined what the inevitable downstream consequences would look like. Based on a couple of online reports I’ve read, we have now arrived “downstream.”
The animals adopted en mass over the last few years are now being abandoned to shelters at growing rate. It was perfectly predictable if you operate from the assumption that human beings are the literal worst. Sure, people will want to blame going back to their in-person jobs and not having time. Others will blame inflation. Others will dream up whatever excuse allows them to sleep better at night after abandoning a creature that was entirely dependent on them for food, shelter, and protection.
Look, no one knows better than I do that situations change. Eleven years ago, I was hurtling towards Maryland one day ahead of my belongings with two dogs in the back seat and no housing locked in because most landlords didn’t want to rent to someone with pets. It was damned stressful, but putting Maggie and Winston out on the side of the road was never going to be an option. If that meant I had to drive further or pay more, that was just the price of doing business.
I’m damned if I’m going to be lectured by anyone about vet bills being expensive. More than once I had to take out a loan to pay for treatment I couldn’t afford out of pocket. Conservatively, I’d estimate I’ve paid out $30,000 in vet bills and medication over the last decade. That’s before even figuring in the day-to-day costs like food, toys, and treats. I didn’t always pay the bill with a song in my heart, but I found a way to get it done even if that mean sacrificing other things I wanted or needed.
I struggle mightily to think of a situation where I’d hand over one of these animals or where I wouldn’t go without or change my living situation if that’s what it took to make sure I was able to look after them. Hell, if I drop dead tomorrow there are provisions in place to make sure Jorah, Hershel, and George can live out their days in comfort and get whatever care they need for the rest of their natural lives. That’s the unspoken compact I made with them when I brought them home.
If you’re the kind of person who would just dump them off on the local shelter or rescue, hope someone else will do the hard work for you, and then wash your hands of the whole sorry state of affairs, well then Jesus… I don’t even want to know you.
The joy of nothing…
It’s rare to get through from the time I post Friday night’s blog all the way to a Monday evening without having at least one idea jump out at me as being at least nominally worthy of writing up a few lines. It does happen, of course, but it’s rare enough to be noticeable – or at least it is for me.
I’m going to attribute this weekend’s lack of anything particularly interesting to a combination of reasons. The first of them being that the only time I Ieft the house between 5PM last Tuesday and now, was for about 45 minutes on Saturday. That’s just long enough to get out for the weekly supply run and get home. It generally happens before most people have even properly started their Saturday – and that’s absolutely done with intention.
It might have started as a pandemic-induced way to avoid standing in line and needlessly exposing myself to whatever bugs people are toting around in their respiratory system, but it turns out even absent a plague, it’s just a great way to avoid people, their small talk, their general bad behavior, and any need to interact with them en mass. Plus, two and a half years in and I’ve still managed to avoid COVID, so that’s a perk. I thought maybe I’d miss restaurants or going places, but it turns out I really don’t. The incentive to leave the house has to be pretty overwhelming. It happens, but it’s a rarity.
Another reason there doesn’t feel like much to report is, I expect, due to having dialed back a lot of unnecessary spending. Between continuing inflationary pressure, general economic uncertainly, and home maintenance projects both scheduled and unscheduled, a lot of “fun” spending got either reallocated either directly towards covering other expenses or into various holding accounts to be banked against further unexpected requirements. Between shepherding cash, avoiding people/plague carriers, and generally being content to hang out at home with the animals, the number of things worth writing about – or at least the number that anyone other than me might be interested in, sometimes gets a bit limited.
I have no doubt I could gin up a few attention-grabbing posts if I went over and wandering around the local Walmart for an hour or two. You can understand, I hope, why that doesn’t sound like a particularly worthwhile trade off. Much as I enjoy writing, I’m not in any rush to put myself back in a position of having unlimited topics presenting themselves on any given day.
For today at least, I’ll luxuriate in the joy of having nothing to say.
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