Back in November, I received my retirement packet from the US Army Resources Command. I had to fill it out, get it notarized, go to the bank and get a form for direct deposit, etc. The instructions told me to mail it back in the envelope provided and don't send it registered, certified, or anything else. If I wanted confirmation they received it, put a self-addressed stamped postcard inside and they send it back to me.
So I mailed it in January and I'm still waiting for the self-addressed stamped postcard and since January, I've been obsessing about whether they processed the packet or not.
Approximately six months before my 60th birthday, I'm supposed to receive orders placing me on the US Army Retired List and confirming that my retirement pay will start on my birthday. That's about six months away and I'm still waiting for that notification, too.
Anyway, to make a short story even shorter, today I found a resource on line for a local Retirement NCO right over on Sidco Drive at the National Guard Armory who's supposed to help out "Gray Area Retirees" which is what someone who's retired but has not yet reached age 60 is called. Gray area. Evidently they got a look at my hair.
I called the number and got a recording. Things sure have changed in the 16 years I've been gone. In my day, we wouldn't dream of having a call answered by voice mail. A person would answer it.
So I told the machine who I was and that I was the Chief of the Personnel Services Branch before the one they've got now, and here's my problem, and please give me a call.
And guess what I'm still waiting for?
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Taking Care Of Your Body
Although you wouldn't guess it to look at me, I've been on a physical fitness and diet regimen since I was 18 years old and entered Basic Combat Training at Fort Polk, Louisiana. Well...except for a 6 month interlude that lasted from the day I retired from the military until the day I went to work again and discovered the shorts and cut-off sweatshirt I'd been wearing daily during that period wouldn't cut it in the business world.
In all those years, I learned almost every single thing you could ever want to know about diet, nutrtion, exercise, and the human body. Seriously. I don't mean to brag, but there are nutritionists, doctors, dieticians, and Olympic athletes out there who haven't read as much about physical fitness and health as I have. The first diet and fitness book I ever read was written by Charles Atlas and the last one I read was written by some wiggler who edits a magazine called Men's Health that's been running the same 132 articles over and over again with different titles since they started publishing.
The problem with having all this knowledge, you see, is getting it "out there." For most people, that means they feel compelled to write a book. But books are tedious. They're long. And they're usually full of little anecdotes nobody cares about except the writer's relatives.
No, I think the way to impart knowledge about anything is with a list.
So let's take this opportunity to examine some of our most compelling beliefs about physical fitness, diet, exercise, the human body, and its social role and function. (I borrowed that sentence from the skirts over at Good Housekeeping, so don't get anything on it because I've got to get it back to them for their February article on divorced lesbians who raise their sons as transvestites.)
1. The absolute worst thing in the world for you, worse than anything else, is commercial white bread.
2. The only thing worse than that is refined white sugar.
3. In fact, anything white, such as white rice, is bad for you and anything brown, such as brown rice, is good for you.
4. The only white thing that's good for you is white wine.
5. The only other white things that are good for you are fish and chicken which are much better for you than beef which is bad for you unless it's veal which is sort of good for you unless it's deep fried.
6. Fish is so good for you that it's almost a vegetable except that it has intenstines.
7. Exercise is good for you and the more vigorous and frequent the exercise, the better it is for you. But you shouldn't exercise too much because exercise really wears you down.
8. Cancer is the result of having a certain personality type that represses emotions and things.
9. Only real straight Republican conservative "business-types" repress emotions. And your mother.
10. All other diseases we get are caused by the foods we eat.
11. All other diseases we get are caused by the environment we live in.
12. American eating habits are very unhealthy and Americans are very unhealthy even though statistics say we live longer than almost everybody else in the world.
13. You can lose weight and get in real good shape by eating 1,000 calories a day and exercising like a madman and within 6 months of stopping that, you'll be out of shape and fat again.
14. All folk medicine works really well, especially Chinese folk medicine.
15. Doctors don't know anything about medicine.
16. It's more natural for a baby to be born on a geodesic houseboat in Bali than a hospital in Nashville.
17. Karate, Judo, and Tae Kwan Do are good, but fighting is bad.
18. Women have more endurance than men.
19. Shaving under your arms is barbaric, but putting half a dozen holes in each ear and one in your belly button is good.
In all those years, I learned almost every single thing you could ever want to know about diet, nutrtion, exercise, and the human body. Seriously. I don't mean to brag, but there are nutritionists, doctors, dieticians, and Olympic athletes out there who haven't read as much about physical fitness and health as I have. The first diet and fitness book I ever read was written by Charles Atlas and the last one I read was written by some wiggler who edits a magazine called Men's Health that's been running the same 132 articles over and over again with different titles since they started publishing.
The problem with having all this knowledge, you see, is getting it "out there." For most people, that means they feel compelled to write a book. But books are tedious. They're long. And they're usually full of little anecdotes nobody cares about except the writer's relatives.
No, I think the way to impart knowledge about anything is with a list.
So let's take this opportunity to examine some of our most compelling beliefs about physical fitness, diet, exercise, the human body, and its social role and function. (I borrowed that sentence from the skirts over at Good Housekeeping, so don't get anything on it because I've got to get it back to them for their February article on divorced lesbians who raise their sons as transvestites.)
1. The absolute worst thing in the world for you, worse than anything else, is commercial white bread.
2. The only thing worse than that is refined white sugar.
3. In fact, anything white, such as white rice, is bad for you and anything brown, such as brown rice, is good for you.
4. The only white thing that's good for you is white wine.
5. The only other white things that are good for you are fish and chicken which are much better for you than beef which is bad for you unless it's veal which is sort of good for you unless it's deep fried.
6. Fish is so good for you that it's almost a vegetable except that it has intenstines.
7. Exercise is good for you and the more vigorous and frequent the exercise, the better it is for you. But you shouldn't exercise too much because exercise really wears you down.
8. Cancer is the result of having a certain personality type that represses emotions and things.
9. Only real straight Republican conservative "business-types" repress emotions. And your mother.
10. All other diseases we get are caused by the foods we eat.
11. All other diseases we get are caused by the environment we live in.
12. American eating habits are very unhealthy and Americans are very unhealthy even though statistics say we live longer than almost everybody else in the world.
13. You can lose weight and get in real good shape by eating 1,000 calories a day and exercising like a madman and within 6 months of stopping that, you'll be out of shape and fat again.
14. All folk medicine works really well, especially Chinese folk medicine.
15. Doctors don't know anything about medicine.
16. It's more natural for a baby to be born on a geodesic houseboat in Bali than a hospital in Nashville.
17. Karate, Judo, and Tae Kwan Do are good, but fighting is bad.
18. Women have more endurance than men.
19. Shaving under your arms is barbaric, but putting half a dozen holes in each ear and one in your belly button is good.
Monday, May 14, 2012
Tennessee Sports
Every male Tennessean whose father wants him in UT is born with a tiny football in his hand.
The idea is much like the farm boy who carried a calf around the house every day so that he’d finally be strong enough to pick up a full-sized cow: to get the boy to grip a football really early in his career, so that it becomes natural to him when he grows up.
Every six months or so, Daddy gives his growing boy a slightly bigger ball. By the time the kid is two years old, he’s throwing five-yard spirals. At about thirteen, he can sail one forty yards. The young UT prospect goes through an athletic training regimen that makes Russian gymnasts look like jet set street people.
By the time the kid is ready for junior pro competition he’s big, smart, cool, and can throw a squareout right on the button. He can peg one through a swinging tire without even looking. Now he’s ready for some real coaching. A chunky, jowly gym teacher, an ex-second string lineman for Tennessee Tech or MTSU named Buck or Harold, takes over and really whips the kid into shape. He coaches the kid to stay in the pocket even when he hears footsteps and knows he can be blind-sided by a massive one hundred pounder who’s been left back four times and is still struggling through the sixth grade.
“Save that fancy stuff, the dodging around, for your high school games, son. First thing you learn from me is how to hang tough. If you can’t hang tough, hang up your fuckin’ cleats. Ain’t no point in playing football,” says Buck. Or Harold.
Harold (or Buck) cusses, spits, and blows his nose in his hand…and his boys love it. The boys’ daddies love it. The moms hate it in public, but secretly love it, too. Except for the blowing his nose in his hand part. They think that’s disgusting. But, anyway, with cussing and spitting comes manhood, virility, and true UT style.
With all this coaching and playing, the kid develops into a real player, a first-rate junior pro quarterback who leads his grade school team to three championships in their league. Film clips of the kid in action have been on TV news all season. He’s been scouted by plenty of high schools and they all want him, even the private schools.
The kid can’t miss. He’s got what it takes to make it. He’s got the arm, the know-how, the size, and the speed.
Except when he gets to high school, there are twenty-five guys exactly like him.
He can’t make the high school team as quarterback, but they try him as a halfback and he breaks his leg in the first scrimmage.
Next year he breaks the other leg trying out as a tight end, and the third year, his collarbone goes.
By his senior year, he’s washed up. His blooming career and hopes and dreams of becoming a star at UT are shot. And so are his Daddy’s dreams for him.
Sure, he’s bitter and disappointed and screwed up in the head. But there’s still hope for the kid. So he does what thousands of young UT football hopefuls with similar problems do—he becomes a faggot and goes to Vanderbilt.
The idea is much like the farm boy who carried a calf around the house every day so that he’d finally be strong enough to pick up a full-sized cow: to get the boy to grip a football really early in his career, so that it becomes natural to him when he grows up.
Every six months or so, Daddy gives his growing boy a slightly bigger ball. By the time the kid is two years old, he’s throwing five-yard spirals. At about thirteen, he can sail one forty yards. The young UT prospect goes through an athletic training regimen that makes Russian gymnasts look like jet set street people.
By the time the kid is ready for junior pro competition he’s big, smart, cool, and can throw a squareout right on the button. He can peg one through a swinging tire without even looking. Now he’s ready for some real coaching. A chunky, jowly gym teacher, an ex-second string lineman for Tennessee Tech or MTSU named Buck or Harold, takes over and really whips the kid into shape. He coaches the kid to stay in the pocket even when he hears footsteps and knows he can be blind-sided by a massive one hundred pounder who’s been left back four times and is still struggling through the sixth grade.
“Save that fancy stuff, the dodging around, for your high school games, son. First thing you learn from me is how to hang tough. If you can’t hang tough, hang up your fuckin’ cleats. Ain’t no point in playing football,” says Buck. Or Harold.
Harold (or Buck) cusses, spits, and blows his nose in his hand…and his boys love it. The boys’ daddies love it. The moms hate it in public, but secretly love it, too. Except for the blowing his nose in his hand part. They think that’s disgusting. But, anyway, with cussing and spitting comes manhood, virility, and true UT style.
With all this coaching and playing, the kid develops into a real player, a first-rate junior pro quarterback who leads his grade school team to three championships in their league. Film clips of the kid in action have been on TV news all season. He’s been scouted by plenty of high schools and they all want him, even the private schools.
The kid can’t miss. He’s got what it takes to make it. He’s got the arm, the know-how, the size, and the speed.
Except when he gets to high school, there are twenty-five guys exactly like him.
He can’t make the high school team as quarterback, but they try him as a halfback and he breaks his leg in the first scrimmage.
Next year he breaks the other leg trying out as a tight end, and the third year, his collarbone goes.
By his senior year, he’s washed up. His blooming career and hopes and dreams of becoming a star at UT are shot. And so are his Daddy’s dreams for him.
Sure, he’s bitter and disappointed and screwed up in the head. But there’s still hope for the kid. So he does what thousands of young UT football hopefuls with similar problems do—he becomes a faggot and goes to Vanderbilt.
Everything About Music
A Guide Through The World Of Sound
Living, as I do, in "Music City, USA", I find it almost an imperative that I help out those less fortunate than I when it comes to the World of Sound.
The Listeners:
Music Hater
Likes music at church, funerals, and between innings at ball games. Does not own, and has never thought of buying, stereo equipment or radios except for the ones that wake you up in the morning and have clocks built in that blink 12:00 every time the power goes off. Has only one radio and that’s in the car. All the buttons are set to either news stations or talk programs. Despite desperate attempts otherwise, often becomes the father or mother of a music freak.
Owns 8,000 old records, 16,000 CDs, and 20,000 MP3s. Suffers from 35 percent hearing loss in both ears. Recently purchased speakers nine feet tall. Always gets fifth row center seats for all concerts. Official Dead Head even after Jerry Garcia died. Saw Pink Floyd movie 200 times. Would sell sister into slavery for a shot at remixing "Exile On Main Street."
Music Student
“Appreciates” music. Played piano well at birth. Can whistle most great classical works. Never heard of Captain Beefheart or Talking Heads, although admits a fondness for Beatles’ Rubber Soul because of simple but interesting rhythm patterns and novel harmonic contrasts. Can maneuver in crowds with cello. Uses the college CD collection and soundproof listening booths; does not own stereo, iPod, or any CDs.
Music Collector
Never listens to any form of music. Has massive collection of records, tapes, and CDs, all wrapped in plastic, and several 2TB external hard drives full of MP3s locked in a safe. Knows the catalog numbers of every Bessie Smith seventy-eight RPM record ever recorded. Likes to chat about the “old Black Tar Moon” label, and so forth. Went on honeymoon to Nashville to hunt for copy of Kentucky Harvest Blues by Myron Glurkovitz.
The Music Lover
Cannot tell the difference between Beethoven and U2. Thinks of music as either beautiful or not beautiful. Has large stereo console in living room. Enjoys listening to General Motors demonstration CD that came with the Buick Electra. Likes Barry Manilow because he writes to his parents. Incurable hummer.
Provided as a service to those of you who have been busy getting jobs, buying homes, and raising families, and whose last album purchase was Sly and the Family Stone, here is a brief update on what’s been going on since you’ve been gone.
Starting with the Rolling Stones, they put out a raft of albums and got real old. Heavy metal got so heavy it sank. Elton John got a hair transplant, but he’s still a fairy. Joe Cocker declined considerably, surfaced briefly on movie soundtracks, and then puked on himself at a concert. Nine more Jimi Hendrix and half a million Tupac CDs came out, but they're still dead. Eric Clapton stole George Harrison’s wife, licked his drug problem, and quit drinking which proves that heroin and tequila really do make you play better. Rod Stewart turned into a huge homo. Ozzie Ozbourne scared himself really badly with some devil songs. Bob Dylan’s still around but instead of being the angry young rebel poet, he’s now the wealthy old fart with throat polyps. Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young broke up but recently reunited at a Topanga Canyon Weight Watchers meeting. And that’s about it. All in all, you haven’t missed too much. In fact, all the music you would have picked up at full list price now goes for $1.99 in the bargain bin.
1. Opus in D Major for Trumpeto and Nose Horn by Sebastian Renaldi
2. Sixth Symphony After His Second Marriage by Giancometti Smaltuid.
3. March of the Dimes by Framar DuTugue
4. Suite for Two Adults and One Child for One Night by Holiday Yin.
Who Buys Classical Records?
Mrs. Anthony Golden
143 Washburn Place
Gary, Indiana
Milton Harrison
P.O. Box 243
Normoyle, Delaware
If opera is entertainment, then so is watching the cars go up and down at Midas Muffler.
Technically, opera is a play that is sung in a foreign language in voices designed to gnaw and grate on the ear and make the ass fall dead asleep.
It was originally begun as a yard sport for lunatics in sixteenth-century Italy and survives today with no changes.
Opera is to be avoided at all costs, and if you should happen to stumble onto some free tickets keep in mind that all the female stars are real fat. And while you’re not expected to be able to judge an opera by its name, keep in mind that The Battered Wife, La Serva Padrona, and Lulu are not nearly as exciting or interesting as you might think.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)