Out On The Town


The power went out when I was showering yesterday morning. For a moment I thought, well gosh, what if civilization’s just come to an end. This was the sort of merry fanciful thought you could have about surprise power failures back in the 90s when we figured civilization actually had no reason to end. “What the heck, let’s keep it going another five years,” we’d say, every time the subscription notice came up, and if it was charging two bucks more a month that was all right. If we had kept the two bucks a month we probably would’ve done something stupid with it, like buying used VHS tapes of Bucky O’Hare to watch ironically or something. Bucky O’Hare is worth watching sincerely. It’s Biker Mice From Mars you have to watch with detachment.

This clouded up my day, since the ventilator fan in the bathroom stopped working. We’ve got a pretty muggy bathroom, one prone to storm fronts. We average about four tropical depressions per year just from ordinary showering, and the extra-long shower after the Poison Ivy Removal Expedition Of 2015 is credited with starting Hurricane Danny. (We were framed.) Without the fan going I have to leave the shower groping my way blindly through a steamy mass of bathroom rainforest, dodging spiders and sloths and the ooh-ooh-aah-aah birds. I also have to do that when the fan is on, but at least I’ve taken action. It’s never the results. It’s being part of the process.

And it messed up plans too. I had figured to call my Congressman’s office, like I’ve been doing once or twice a week all this year, to demand “how dare you?” It doesn’t accomplish much, although sometimes the poor staffer who has to take me admits, “I haven’t spoken with the Congressman about how dare I”, which is gratifying. Again, it’s all being part of the process. Also about discovering that turns out Congress office reps don’t have caller ID. At the least you’d think they’d ask me what I’m how-dare-youing them about. I used to have something in mind, but that took so much time. It’s just as effective if I go with whatever is in the news today. And without power, without the Internet, I wouldn’t have Twitter and they could totally call my bluff. So that was off.

The power company said the problem was an equipment malfunction. Probably could have guessed that. They couldn’t say, “sorry, we suddenly felt shy about sending stuff into your house without an explicit invitation”, not after they’ve been sending power into the house off and on for nearly ninety years now. Or “Rick forgot to renew our subscription and we let our civilization lapse,” since Rick hasn’t been at the power company in over two years now. Equipment not working right is about all they could go for.

They estimated power should be restored by 5:30 pm, which is disheartening to hear when it’s less than halfway through The Price Is Right. I know you never want to promise service is coming back before you’re absolutely sure it will be. Last time the Internet went out the company would only concede that service should be back by the end of Daylight Saving Time. I don’t know why the Internet company cares if there’s ever a Daylight Saving Time repeal and I don’t think they’re helping the issue by making threats like that. I’d have called my Congressman about that but see above.

Thing with a power failure like that is it’s the kind of snow day I get. I work from home, because I’ve kept my exact whereabouts secret from my boss and he doesn’t know where to come get me. As long as I have Internet I can connect to my office computer and delete e-mails about not leaving the fire door open, just as if I were on site. But in the circumstances, what choice do I have except to take a long lunch out at the bagel place? The only professional choice is to ponder how they have chocolate chip cream cheese these days while overhearing a table full of older white guys agreeing with each other about all these officials it’s unreasonable to hold accountable for what happens in a frat house.

When we got home the power was back. The snow day had passed, and all we had left was resetting the clocks. It could be as long as months before we have every clock in the house re-set, and we have to deal with the more popular clocks taunting those who’re so low-status they don’t get reset. House clocks have vicious, nasty social cliques.

This morning I left the shower fan off.

Another Blog, Meanwhile Index

The index rose seven points on the discovery of a box of salty-and-sweet candy corn from the farmers’ market that had been forgotten about after Easter.

142

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Investigatory Dream


Another night full of a strange dream. Part of it was about dealing with flooding in my parents’ basement that included waves with whitecaps huge enough Popeye was having trouble with them. Part of it was having to testify before a Congressional committee about how Fantasy Island‘s commissioned-LARP business model made more sense than learning the secret desires of the fabulously wealthy and blackmailing them. I wasn’t sure myself but speculated — clearly marking it as such — that the Fantasy Island project was partly in support of local theater programs. I’m not sure that it was, because the economics of it didn’t seem to make sense. But, I mean, the alternative is that Ricardo Montalban’s Mr Roarke was secretly one of the fae folk. Does that really make more sense than trying to work out the Fantasy Island project’s books? Yes, probably so. Everybody’s had that idea too. But for some reason you can’t just come out and say that in front of a Congressional Committee. A Joint Congressional Committee, maybe. Really, I wasn’t at my sharpest while dreaming.

Minnesota Tweeting


I’m not surprised to pick up Twitter followers who’re surprising to me. That’s part of the normal process of existing on Twitter. Every day all of us get followed by self-proclaimed “social bacon ninjas” and people who proclaim to care on behalf of companies we’re fighting with.

A couple weeks back I mentioned Minneapolis-St Paul International Airport, and got followed right away by someone who tracks Minnesota stuff. I’m flattered, since my impression of Minnesota has been formed entirely from walking past the giant Snoopy statue in the airport there and from watching Mystery Science Theater 3000. So I figure the place is pretty friendly and prone to dancing and then kneeling down to make snarky comments about stuff, much like the entire Internet.

The Minnesota guy seems to have dropped me, though. I’m not offended, considering how I haven’t been talking about the airport since then. But that reminds me that I got followed by someone running for a Minnesota congressional district in 2012. His account still says he’s hoping to win his election in 2012. I don’t suppose there has to be a connection. Minnesota has to have easily more than eight people in it. But what if there is? If there’s one thing we know about social media, it’s that social bacon ninjas who care on behalf of the people at AT&T who don’t are everywhere.