New suit Old fit

It’s my lucky day!! Or not! Yesterday, I received a loaded debit card with the settlement from the class action suit I was involved in. Before I get into specifics, let me explain the suit. It appears my electric company has been overcharging its customers for the last ten years. In my case it was like eighty bucks a year. So, when I heard about the class action, I was enraged. I was so mad I went to the internet and complained, because that’s what you do. I mean, why would I actually DO something when I have social media? DUH! That’s what social media is for. So, folks can bitch anonymously, while sitting in a comfortable chair. Ohh, that and also cat videos.

So, I had overpaid eight-hundred-dollars. I signed the paper, like the lazy statistic the lawyers want me to be, and waited. Here’s how it went down; The suit was filed, the company settled out of court for six million, there was no appeal, the five-member legal team were paid two-million as is standard, And the rest was divided up amongst five-hundred-thousand claimants. Yep! you heard right. The law firm got two mil and I got eight bucks; One percent of what I overpaid. That’s the system working for the little guy if ever I heard it. NOT!

It’s Free!!! (wink wink)

This is almost as good as the free kitten scam. Believe me there is no such thing as a free kitten, or puppy. It’s like a magician’s illusion. Some guy in a tux and a top hat says, “Ladies and gentleman, for my next trick I will make someone’s wallet disappear, without ever coming in contact with them.” The crowd cheers. “On the other side of the stage is Harvey Beckworth, whom I’ve never met.” He then instructs his assistant to give Harvey a kitten, and asks Harvey if he accepts it. The moment Harve says yes, his wallet is gone. The crowd goes wild wondering how it’s done. Believe me I know how it’s done. My kids have pulled this trick on me too many times for me not to figure it out. If you don’t know how it’s done, I’ll give you a kitten and you can see for yourself. But be warned it’s not worth it.

It’s Safety

What I’m getting at is reality has a nasty habit of rearing its ugly head when you least expect it. The thing is, with all the superior Mr. Ohh! brain power, I can’t figure out how to stop it. It’s like the little cash light in your car. You, don’t know what that is? Well, it usually looks like a little engine, lit up in orange on your dash. It should look like the sign of whatever currency you use, because that’s what it really means; You’re going to spend lots of money. The one in my car is tuned to whenever I get a slight windfall. If my uncle sends me a couple hundred for Christmas, the light goes on. If I sell some writing, the light goes on. If the bank makes an error, the light goes on. Even if it’s not in my favor. If I make a donation to charity and they tell me to take a chocolate bar out of the basket, that freaking light goes on, and turning it off never costs less than three-hundred smackers.

However, if you don’t have it turned off there is a chance your car will stall-out in the middle of the freeway, as happened to me several years back. I don’t know how it knows, but it’s spooky how that car can tell just when I have cash so it can break down. I’ve figured out a way to beat it. I became unemployed for a year. I may not have been able to feed my family, but that stupid light never appeared. Sadly though, it did two days after I found work.

Let It Rock

If you think I’m rambling, then you’ve guessed right. If you don’t think I’m rambling then I want to thank you for paying so close attention. I understand my words are important, but today I might be a little off because I’m suffering from rock concert aftershock. Last night I was at the show of one of my favorite bands, but I can’t be sure about how it went.

It’s not that I was taking illicit substances. It goes deeper than that. You see I grew up listening to these guys, because they were one of my father’s favorite bands. He told me stories of how these bold troubadours changed a generation. Going against the establishment, with long hair and meaningful lyrics, and rough looking clothes. This sounded so wonderful to me I actually looked up concert footage, and purchased all their music. Finally, the opportunity for me to see them live came, and I spent way too much on tickets. I didn’t care. I was going to see true icons. Well not so much.

Or Maybe “Let It Pebble”

These guys were old. Not just old but conformity old. The drummer did not have long greasy hair, and a t-shirt with the middle finger on it. Nope! He was bald on top, with the tell-tale arc of hair from ear to ear, around the back. He wore a pressed patterned shirt. The lead singer’s hair was styled, and he wore a blazer. I came for something hard hitting like Fox News, but I got PBS.

Yes, the music was great. In fact, if you closed your eyes, you could hear the tunes that changed the world, but if they slipped open you saw your grandfather. My grandfather played the accordion. I associate him with hard-hitting, in-your-face polkas. Not Rock-and Roll. The image is just not there. Of course, he would have fit in, the lead-guitarist had a crew-cut, just like gramps.

Uncle Alice

I know others have noticed this in the past, but it really doesn’t hit home until you experience it for yourself. I’m telling you it’s freaky. The worst part was when my cousin called me this morning, and told me Alice Cooper was playing golf at his country club. Welcome To My Nightmare, that Alice Cooper! My brain can’t associate him with golf. Alligator wrestling in water traps, sure, not playing eighteen holes. Also, he used a cart. He wasn’t burning up the place riding a dragon. I mean, I guess, golf can be a nightmare, but not the Alice Cooper kind.

Okay, I know getting old is a fact of life, but that’s people, not great music. A while back, my son asked about the Beatles, because he heard their stuff online. How do you say to your offspring that a band can’t perform because two of their members are dead? Hmm, I guess that would be the way to do it. It’s apparently easier than I thought. Who knew?

It may get old but it never dies

That’s the problem with the internet; Anything that ever existed is right there. When I grew up all you had was current music or dad’s old records. The selection was limited. Now all the artists are either old or intolerable.

Well except for Mr. Ohh! that is. He’s special. Also, he’s not a singer.