Da Dungarees’ Dung Ick Factor?

I spent 30 long years doing my time in Retail Hell (5 of which were not all that bad). Too often, I got to eyewitness boss-wardens at their worst; the dog eat dog unprofessionalism; the up and down the corporate ladder, anything goes, diseased sexual shenanigans; (and more to the point) how all that crap not only negatively impacted our day-to-day store ops, but also compromised the well-being of customers and subordinates, alike.

Let’s check out a few horror stories…

• My very first boss had opted to adopt, not one, but two, non-housebroken schnauzer pups; gave ‘em free run of our stockroom; allowed ‘em to urinate and defecate in any, within reach, open shipping carton. Seeing how neither the (eventually dried) pee nor the (more or less solid) poop had perceptibly stained our primary product line (dark indigo Levi™ jeans) we, the underlings, were ordered to stock the shelves / racks and sell these crawling with microbes jeans, AS IS, to our unsuspecting clientele. To my truth-in-advertising minded readers, I suppose we could say our, on the QT, corporate motto had been: “We put the DUNG in DUNGarees!”

• It was about that same time when overhead slashing, corporate tightwads had ordered all store restrooms’ hot water heaters turned off. And then, just to earn extra brownie points, our boss soon stripped her monthly store supply orders of hand soap. Beyond that, our toilet bowl soon wound up… uh… well… let’s just say I’ve seen far less gross public restrooms.

• Our health compromising work conditions were inclusive of fatigue, too. Yep, as overworked, underpaid and undervalued subordinates, we were oft scheduled to work well past midnight, yet, be expected to return (bright-eyed and bushy-tailed) by 5 or 6 the same a.m. It’d be an understatement to say groggy employees (especially cashiers) were, indeed, fortunate to catch costly errors, in time; i.e., to avoid being falsely accused of internal theft.

Folks, it’d be a forgone conclusion to say that the above-mentioned working conditions are hardly unique (to me) AND, in all likelihood, have worsened since workplace related injuries necessitated my way too early departure from Retail Hell (now, some thirteen years ago).

So… other than rehashing retail’s revolting side… just WTF is my point here?

For starters, I absolutely DO NOT want anyone to co-opt the following discussion into some sort of lame excuse. All this amounts to is my trying to better wrap my head around the BIZARRE nature of Covid-19 vaccine hesitancy, and, that does demand exploring BIZARRE possibilities.

While I’d hope that Retail Hell, as I’ve known it, is NOT APPLICABLE to Retail Pharmacies (oft, our primary inoculation sites), WHAT IF, in part, it’s been our workforce’s negative perception of retail, which has been causing some of them to view such venues as managed by unsanitary un-professionals, who staff their stores with burnt out, too pooped to participate, error-prone, transient employees?

After all, prior to the pandemic, we have been accustomed to inoculations within sterile, doctor’s office / emergency room / hospital settings.

Could a switchover to those traditional, more clinical venues boost the vaccination rates within hesitant homelands, such as America?

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Fortune Cookie Blog (Cultists)

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Cultists, who idolize the vain autocrat, need to understand
that their unconditional love can ONLY be unrequited love.
The closest he’ll ever come to acknowledging their devotion
will be his validating their sickening racism and every other
cancerous ism that sullies their heads and sours their souls.

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Fortune Cookie Blog (Protection)

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Ditching the mask, long before the end of the pandemic,
is akin to shucking the prophylactic long before the end
of the act, resuming the action, YET expecting all of the
pregnancy and disease prevention benefits to continue.

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Critter Roll Call

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The pandemic down-time has further heightened my appreciation of nature; so much so, I’ve become more attuned to how critters have been paying visits to my neighborhood; especially the after-hours goings on at the time of the full lunar phase. Here’s the brief run-thru; spanning the creatures from large down to small…

Four deer have been habitually making the suburban scene. Personally, I cannot fathom why they’d even opt to wander forth from the more pristine, nearby woods; i.e., just to graze on the chemically toxic lawns. I mean, that crap has got to leave a yucky aftertaste. One would expect their very survival instinct to kick in; Yes? No? Maybe?

Next on the list comes “Spot”, the cat, who I’ve had to shoo away several times; not to worry, my M.O. never involves more than the loud click of my patio door’s lock. While, normally, I’d be more hospitable, I do draw the line when the stalking / aggressive instinct targets the three newborn bunnies, who call my backyard home; the irony being this cat appears to be well fed by the owner. And, btw, I do admire mother rabbit, who doesn’t excessively fuss and interfere; how she fosters her young’uns’ independence.

Of course, I’m not entirely sure if this white furred feline with two major ovoid black patches is named “Spot”, but, obviously, it’d be an apt moniker. Also influencing me was the recollection of Star Trek TNG’s Data choosing that very name for his non-spotted cat.

Several robins have also been in motherhood mode. And they don’t overly-baby their babies, either; even seem to welcome the eventual, empty nest syndrome.

The Tiger Swallowtail butterflies (which have been absent for several years), of late, have been flying by day. Ditto the, by night, flight plans of the countless fireflies; flying in random formation to put on a spectacular light show.

Noticeably absent has been the waddling woodchuck, however, this may merely be a matter of not looking out my window at the right time.

That’s it for now.

So, what about your own sightings? Any critters you’d like to add to this roll call?

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Roy G Biv ReVisited

Dense whites don their dunce caps; hued bright M.A.G.A. red
Dumped greenbacks that buy ‘em; enrich orange, vain shithead
He claims to be stable; the Mensa / Alpha type fellow?
Yet, he’s ignorant snowflake; spineless, thin skinned and yellow
He fancies he’s dapper; just like dressed-to-the-nines thuggies
Shuck his brown shirts, white hoods / robes; to find adult Huggies?
He believes he’s devout? Hardcore bluenose? Damned tootin’?
Yet, he seethes purple passion; for porn stars / Vlad Putin
All in all, he’s swamp dweller; thru filth he keeps sloggin’
Fecal brown for grey matter; gets promptly swapped in his noggin

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America’s Return To Normal

Of late, my homeland’s head of state has been scratching his head; wondering: Why do so many (too many) Americans continue to flip off the proven SAFE and EFFECTIVE, absolutely FREE OF COST, Covid-19 vaccines? Why do they so easily rebuff the aired and streamed, slickly crafted / choreographed, smiley faced, Public Service Announcements, which are supposed to sell the BIG PROMISE; namely,… cue the drum roll / rim shot…

AMERICA’S RETURN TO NORMAL

Admittedly, there’s been insufficient time, wherewithal and staffing to comprehensively psychoanalyze the crap out of vaxxing’s paradoxical, flummoxed state of affairs. Ergo, at best, any attempts to do so will be limited to our gut trusting abilities. With all that in mind, let’s try running the following theory up the flagpole to see if it’ll fly…

• Could vaccine hesitancy, in part, be contact traced to the BIG PROMISE, itself?

These days, just WTF does “normal America” stand for? Alas… long exasperated sigh… in part…

• The (so far) too little / too late attempts to rein in climate change; the consequent destructive, deadly, frequently freakish weather patterns. Left unchecked, as early as 2050, such forces could render our world uninhabitable.

• The autocratic, avaricious Trumper Republicans; who only rise and stay in power due to their validating their base’s bigotry and enacting / enforcing illegal voter suppression laws (Jim Crowism, Gerrymandering, etc.)

• A gilded government of, by and for the obscenely wealthy; all at the expense of the middle class which has been rapidly plunging into poverty; the already impoverished class which has been getting their virtual atoms ground into the asphalt.

• An armed to the teeth, gun sick society; inclusive of seething with racism, swaggering with power, judge, jury and executioner cops slaughtering anyone with a melanin content exceeding lily white AND psycho snipers hellbent on shooting up houses of worship, school houses, workplaces, etc.

• The freak show cult, which still believes snowflake / flaccid Donald J. Trump’s flat-out, unsubstantiated lies about widespread voter fraud; namely, his domestic terrorists, who, back on January 6, 2021, on his behalf, had attempted to overturn free, fair elections and, in the process, overthrow the United States of America and forever install DJT’s fascistic régime. Left unchecked, at the mere drop of a red MAGA hat, these traitors will attack again.

Well, folks, a return to normal, SUCH AS THAT, will never serve as the impetus for folks to vaxx up. The need to do so will have to come from within each of us. Granted, long sigh, my parting pep talk will come across as simplistic, even a bit corny, but, the oft paraphrased maxim, “Where there’s life there’s hope” can become decent folks’ rallying anthem.

And speaking of decent folks, even the late Stephen Hawking incorporated that wisdom, thusly…

“However bad life may seem, there is always something you can do and succeed at. Where there’s life, there’s hope.”

Hey, even unspoken, such a sentiment did serve as the January 6th phrase that pays.

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What Ails US Goes Beyond Covid-19

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Regrettably, it’s unlikely that my headline’s “US” is United States specific; i.e., it could readily involve the generic pronoun, “us”. And, btw, in British vernacular “US” can also stand for something unserviceable and/or useless.

Whatever connotation may apply, here, do check out the present-day incarnation of the US nation; as aptly diagnosed by the good Doctor (a true visionary)…

“I have a foreboding of an America in my children’s or my grandchildren’s time — when the United States is a service and information economy; when nearly all the key manufacturing industries have slipped away to other countries; when awesome technological powers are in the hands of a very few, and no one representing the public interest can even grasp the issues; when the people have lost the ability to set their own agendas or knowledgeably question those in authority; when, clutching our crystals and nervously consulting our horoscopes, our critical faculties in decline, unable to distinguish between what feels good and what’s true, we slide, almost without noticing, back into superstition and darkness. The dumbing down of America is most evident in the slow decay of substantive content in the enormously influential media, the 30-second sound bites (now down to 10 seconds or less), lowest common denominator programming, credulous presentations on pseudoscience and superstition, but especially a kind of celebration of ignorance.”

“The Demon-Haunted World” • co-authors Carl Sagan / Ann Druyan • ©1995

Wow, it’s as if, a little over one-quarter century ago, Sagan and Druyan had stepped into a time machine to pay a visit to the world as we know it, today.

All of which leads to my parting remarks…

IF you find your society sickened by the virulent “variants”, as Sagan described ’em, above, this American feels your pain and you do have my pity.

IF your people have discovered the cure for such societal ills; if good mental health now rules supreme within your homeland, you do have my congratulations.

Oh, just one more thing… uh… IF the latter IF applies… my heartfelt plea…

IF it’d not be too much trouble, would you please share, with the rest of us / the US, the secret to your success?

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Sigh… Sci-Fi?

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Even had this past Wednesday’s numerology not involved all multiples of 7, I still would’ve thanked my lucky stars on 07/14/21: the very day I got my second chance to finally, fully and freely enjoy a far more meaningful, satisfying life.

That’s when the fortuitous, favorable conditions had allowed my 44-year absent, spacefaring friends to pull off a timely, unscheduled return pass thru our inner solar system; to briefly touch down on Earth (on my behalf); to pay me back for my long ago, last minute, mission salvaging sacrifice (on their behalf); to, in essence, repatriate me.

To better understand my now limitless elation, let’s begin where / when it all began; the summer of ’67; during a sweltering, steamy, Michigan heatwave; a couple hours past sundown…

At that pivotal moment, with the June Beetles repeatedly pinging against our patio door’s screen, this newly minted teenager was sitting across the dining room table from my well-versed in astrophysics father; savoring a fizzing, ice cold cola while rehashing the glum current events.

Eventually, my utter exasperation / revulsion re societal injustice, racism, sexism, classism, no-win endless wars, environmental ruin, etc. had culminated with my raw rant’s slew of Qs…

“I wonder what would happen were we to construct a spaceship to get the hell outta here? How tough would it be to get our journey to the stars off the ground? Would governmental mental misfits deny us a secure launch corridor thru American airspace? Or, attempt to appropriate our intellectual and actual property? Even bark out their ‘Blast ‘em out of the sky!’ command to the military?”

Next, in a sudden burst of inspiration, I began thumbnail theorizing; regarding the spacecraft tech capable of materializing wormholes; which in turn, would allow our crew to circumvent the Einsteinian posted speed limit of 299,792 km per second; to, ultimately, circumnavigate the universe.

Seeing how my questions had only been rhetorical; my notions theoretical, about all that was left to do, that night, was rise, yawn, stretch, shrug and wish my Dad pleasant dreams; and then head off to my own dreamland.

Well, by dawn’s early light, I found my father all smiles at the breakfast table as he said…

“Son, I’ve taken to heart virtually everything you spoke of, last night; so much so, I’ve already phoned my network of visionaries to schedule an impromptu meeting. And, seeing how you’ve amply demonstrated your own think-outta-the-box creds, I want you to skip school, today, so you, too, can meet with us.”

Well, my ability to view science in the abstract wound up “wowing” my dad’s associates; so much so, I soon became known as our team’s Abstract Artist (aptly nicknamed “Double A”). Of course, canvas and oils had nothing to do with the type of pictures I was “painting” for them. To cite an apt 21st century aside, I was more attuned to Jean-Luc Picard than Pablo Picasso.

My primary work assignments involved conceptualizing space-worthy hardware and ancillary devices; presenting these notions to my co-workers, who, in turn, would leap ‘em off their drawing boards; fast track ‘em into production; so much so, that it took less than a decade for our fully functional, starship, The Saucer to ace all its preflight tests; to be secreted within its under heavy guard, underground launch bay.

And, such nomenclature was quite fitting, too, considering this vehicle’s uncanny conformity to descriptions found within Sci-Fi literature, TV and films. Indeed, our extraordinary tech, namely, the Wormhole Wave Generator and The Shroud (akin to the Trekian Romulan Cloaking Device.) could’ve been easily, mistakenly deemed to be of “extraterrestrial origin”.

Quite the tale of two vastly disparate space programs, huh? On one hand, NASA was merely setting their Sixties era sites on lunar landings; on the other, our would-be astronauts were boldly training our crosshairs on deep space and whatever else we may encounter.

Naturally, to ensure that our mission would not die of old age and old ideas, our carefully considered crew manifest did boast a diverse, cross section of humanity; namely, the mens sana in corpore sano, intellectually curious, humane, superbly scrupulous young women and men; all committed to hand down, from generation to generation, our principles and scientific / technological expertise.

Our actual launch date was slated for 07/07/77 at 07:07 UTC. However, unbeknownst to us, we had a quisling within our ranks; one whose top priority was to muck up everything by sabotaging The Shroud, which would either totally scrub the launch or force our, in full view, departure from Earth. In other words, to leave us completely vulnerable to military attack.

My father had outed this traitor who, via a landline, was a mere syllable away from outing our launch bay’s actual latitude and longitude to government muckety-mucks. Even tho dad had severed the phone’s wire in the nick of time, that call, if traced, still could’ve afforded them our general vicinity, ergo, we deemed it imperative to deploy a decoy to lead any in hot pursuit entities in the totally opposite direction.

In a heartbeat, I had volunteered to take ‘em all on the proverbial wild goose chase; soon thereafter, spotting the flashing lights of multiple military vehicles and civilian cop cars; all emerging from the dust cloud seen in my rearview mirror. And, while my mission to mislead ‘em had allowed The Saucer to launch precisely on schedule (in full view) I, too, found myself (as expected) in the figurative rearview mirror (of our starship). By the by, our enemies did manage to haphazardly fire off several missiles, but to no avail. Ultimately, our tech had amply proven our brains over brawn superiority.

Over the course of the past forty plus years, I’ve never lost hope that our crew (now a blend of originals and descendants), would return for me; my belief remaining so passionate that I continued to unleash talents worthy of my “Double A” nickname; so much so, that my latest drawing-board-to-reality tech involves the RTC (Real Time Communicator).

The fact that these words are now posted @WordPress is proof that the RTC is now online aboard The Saucer. Ergo, unlike in the past, we’ll manage to regularly stay in touch with our recently assembled, top secret, skeletal, global network; our ground crew, who in turn, will stay connected to you, the worldwide reader.

Oh, how good it feels to say good riddance to the husks of humanity Trumpers who still flat out refuse to mask up / vaccinate during a deadly pandemic; who remain hellbent on overthrowing America / fighting AGAINST freedom; who are DYING to empower fascistic freaks who, in The End, WILL suck the life blood from the masses they oppress.

To wrap this up, I’ve now swapped out our dismal, decaying, devolving society for the glowing, growing alternative reality where I’m at liberty to explore the vast multiverse. Might there exist a deep space / otherworldly solution to our worldy ills? Perhaps even an improptu meeting to mind meld with our omniscient Creator?

Will we / can we, somehow, succeed? Stay tuned for my next update.

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Help Wanted Ad ~ Quick Limerick 110

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Yellow rag stories reek like cheap cologne
Snag disrespect / disbelief; Yep, full-blown!
Distrust newspeak disjointed
You’ll not be disappointed
Daisy fresh futures await; Yep, our own!

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Semantics, Anybody?

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John Iadarola brilliantly presides over the progressive news / talk program known as The Damage Report. While there rarely, if ever, has been anything objectionable to his content / perspective, in this extremely rare instance, I find myself feeling a bit of discontent re his semantics.

Check out his commentary re Walmart shoppers’ spontaneous rendition of America’s National Anthem over this past Independence Day weekend.

“There are people, who are in that crowd, who have LEGITIMATELY been left behind by, you know, the abuses of corporate America and all of that. Many of them have been brainwashed into believing that that’s good, or whatever, but they have actually been victimized by America. So, if there’s a thing that brings them joy, even if it’s singing in a store, or whatever, then that’s fine. I’m not going to take that away from them. I will say, tho… an informed love seems more worthwhile than just an unthinking love that was trained into you as a kid.”

John Iadarola • The Damage Report • 07/06/2021

Now, let’s crack open our dictionaries.

legitimately |ləˈjidəmətlē|
adverb
1 in a way that conforms to the law or to rules: they can prove that the funds were acquired legitimately | a legitimately elected government.
2 in a way that can be defended with logic or justification; fairly: nobody can legitimately argue that he didn’t pay his dues | consumers could legitimately claim to have been misled.

All of which begs this key question:

Since when can victimization (e.g., being brainwashed by abusive corporate America ever be deemed LEGITIMATE? Would it not have been better for Mr. Iadarola to have said:

There are people, who are in that crowd, who have ADMITTEDLY been left behind by, you know, the abuses of corporate America and all of that. Many of them have been brainwashed into believing that that’s good or whatever, but they have actually been victimized by America.

admittedly |ədˈmididlē|
adverb [sentence adverb]
used to introduce a concession or recognition that something is true or is the case: admittedly, the salary was not wonderful, but the duties were light | this is admittedly an extreme case.

Seeing how I’ve actually, recently, heard this very misuse (involving another progressive commentator), that’s all the more reason for straightening out the semantics.

By the by (If anyone may be interested) check out my 10/24/2016 commentary re patriotism.

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