Dear Mrs. Higgins,
With the elections over I thought we were past all this slanted spin on every political story.
I was wrong.
Don’t know if you’ve been following the story, though its hard not to the way the press has been forcing it on us: the lynching of our Governor Blagojevich.
I’m telling you the press has been ridiculous with these trumped up charges that are hardly worth mentioning.
Trumped up charge #1: selling the senate seat vacated by President Elect Obama.
Well comrade, this is called “revenue”. Its part of running a “business” in a free trade place we call America.
This anti commerce commie press has really got to realize that profit is a good thing. Next we’ll be closing down lemonade stands.
Trumped up charge #2: withholding state payments to a children’s hospital until contributions are made to his office.
Ok, this sounds bad. But the one question I haven’t heard anyone ask is: are these kids really sick?
Oh, no Mr. Reporter bypasses the key questions to maliciously tar the Governor’s good name.
Trumped up charge #3: getting high paid, cushy jobs for his wife in exchange for state contracts.
Here is a man trying to do something to help out around the house. Sorry to inform the anti-family press, but taking care of the Mrs. is what we call family values.
Anyway Mrs. H, I’m sure this is just a tempest in a teapot. After the press finds somebody else to viciously attack, Rod will coast himself into the senate. And I’ve already ordered my “Blago for President 2016” t shirts.
All he needs is a real “law and order” VP. I wonder what Elliot Spitzer is doing these days.
Mike
Dear Mike,
The only place your buddy Rod is going to “coast into” is the penitentiary. Maybe Mrs. Blago will have an adjacent cell.
Did you say “law and order” and “Elliot Spitzer” in the same week?
Keep the tshirt, boy. Your car is always dirty anyway.
Love and kisses,
Mrs H.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Welcome to Walmart
Dear Mrs. Higgins,
I know we are in the throes of a recession bordering depression.
Things are bad. Way bad.
Every day the news gets worse. Another bank closes. Stock market plummets.
Freddie Mac, Fannie Mae, Fannie Pack, all in big trouble.
So I was only a little startled to see that Friday after Thanksgiving there were lines at Best Buy several hours before they opened at 4am.
4am. Best Buy. Holy Shit! Really?
I’ve seen pictures of the lines from the last depression. Unshaven guys with tattered clothes standing in line for a bowl of soup.
Now we’re looking at folks, just as troubled, just as passionate, scoring great deals on iPods and DVD players.
I’m thinking that if there really was a depression, would anyone want ANYTHING from Best Buy? (think: food, shelter, clothing, digital cameras)
So, anyway Mrs. H, with all respect for the depression you went
through, but this seems a little like depression lite.
And here is the kicker: a greeter at a Walmart in New York city was crushed to death as the store opened on black Friday (aka black and blue Friday)
Crushed to death.
By people trying to save money on Christmas presents.
I haven’t been so confused about how we celebrate Jesus birth since
“don we now our gay apparel”
Not everyone understands the true meaning of Christmas. That’s why, I’m off to buy a couple electric deer for the front yard, to set an example for the entire neighborhood.
(hope folks don’t think I’m too religious)
Be careful at Walmart,
Mike
Dear Mike,
Yeah. You’re an example alright.
Go light up your deer. Hopefully the neighbor kids won’t “arrange” them this year.
Mrs H.
I know we are in the throes of a recession bordering depression.
Things are bad. Way bad.
Every day the news gets worse. Another bank closes. Stock market plummets.
Freddie Mac, Fannie Mae, Fannie Pack, all in big trouble.
So I was only a little startled to see that Friday after Thanksgiving there were lines at Best Buy several hours before they opened at 4am.
4am. Best Buy. Holy Shit! Really?
I’ve seen pictures of the lines from the last depression. Unshaven guys with tattered clothes standing in line for a bowl of soup.
Now we’re looking at folks, just as troubled, just as passionate, scoring great deals on iPods and DVD players.
I’m thinking that if there really was a depression, would anyone want ANYTHING from Best Buy? (think: food, shelter, clothing, digital cameras)
So, anyway Mrs. H, with all respect for the depression you went
through, but this seems a little like depression lite.
And here is the kicker: a greeter at a Walmart in New York city was crushed to death as the store opened on black Friday (aka black and blue Friday)
Crushed to death.
By people trying to save money on Christmas presents.
I haven’t been so confused about how we celebrate Jesus birth since
“don we now our gay apparel”
Not everyone understands the true meaning of Christmas. That’s why, I’m off to buy a couple electric deer for the front yard, to set an example for the entire neighborhood.
(hope folks don’t think I’m too religious)
Be careful at Walmart,
Mike
Dear Mike,
Yeah. You’re an example alright.
Go light up your deer. Hopefully the neighbor kids won’t “arrange” them this year.
Mrs H.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Get Sirius
Dear Mrs. Higgins,
I was buying a pack of gum at a convenience store the other day and noticed that I was on 5 video cameras. In addition, my every move was closely monitored by the cashier behind the counter.
Today I read that pirates have captured a $100 million supertanker near the Somali coast. They just drive their little boats along side, toss a grappling hook over the edge and now the Sirius Star belongs to Mr. Pirate and company.
Seems like maybe the convenience store could provide a little security training to ocean going vessels.
Maybe part of the problem is that the Sirius, which is about a fifth of a mile long, is operated by 25 people.
25.
McDonalds uses 26 to manage the breakfast rush.
Well you know me, Mrs. H. I say, if you can’t beat em, join em.
That’s right. I’m going to get a black eye patch, and a bottle of rum and get on the bandwagon. Not exactly sure what I’ll do with a thousand foot supertanker, but I’m pretty sure the local pawn shop will be part of the solution.
Maybe I should start with fishing boats at Lake Shelbyville.
Do you know where I can buy an arm hook?
Mike
Dear Captain Hook,
Congratulations on your new career choice.
Definitely start with raiding tackle boxes and beer coolers. Then it’s a small step to international waters.
Or you could just get two eye patches, drink the rum, and pretend like its every other Wednesday night.
Mrs H.
I was buying a pack of gum at a convenience store the other day and noticed that I was on 5 video cameras. In addition, my every move was closely monitored by the cashier behind the counter.
Today I read that pirates have captured a $100 million supertanker near the Somali coast. They just drive their little boats along side, toss a grappling hook over the edge and now the Sirius Star belongs to Mr. Pirate and company.
Seems like maybe the convenience store could provide a little security training to ocean going vessels.
Maybe part of the problem is that the Sirius, which is about a fifth of a mile long, is operated by 25 people.
25.
McDonalds uses 26 to manage the breakfast rush.
Well you know me, Mrs. H. I say, if you can’t beat em, join em.
That’s right. I’m going to get a black eye patch, and a bottle of rum and get on the bandwagon. Not exactly sure what I’ll do with a thousand foot supertanker, but I’m pretty sure the local pawn shop will be part of the solution.
Maybe I should start with fishing boats at Lake Shelbyville.
Do you know where I can buy an arm hook?
Mike
Dear Captain Hook,
Congratulations on your new career choice.
Definitely start with raiding tackle boxes and beer coolers. Then it’s a small step to international waters.
Or you could just get two eye patches, drink the rum, and pretend like its every other Wednesday night.
Mrs H.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Dating and other natural disasters - part 2
Dear Mrs. Higgins,
Had a strange experience the other night and I wanted to get your opinion.
I had a date over at my house, and the night is going really well.
Suddenly, she leans in and asks softly, “Do you have any protection?”
Well, as you know, I've been around a little, and knew just what she was really asking.
“Absolutely,” I nodded knowingly. “State Farm: homeowners AND vehicle.”
Then, for effect, I whispered in her ear, “100 dollar deductible.”
I know that was probably over the top, but thought if I could make an impression, why not. If you’ve got it, flaunt it.
Her reaction was a little different than expected. She shook her head and pointed down saying, “you know, protection.”
That’s when I realized that this girl was way smart.
How could she possible know that my shoes had steel toes. I mean, there’s no way to tell by looking.
So I smiled and said: “You’re good baby! Do you want to drop something heavy on my toe?”
Ok, Mrs. Higgins, here is the strange part. Instead of maybe stepping on the end of my foot, or putting a table leg on top of my shoe, she is starting to leave.
Turns out she left her curling iron on, a cake in the oven, and her cat outside. She is really in a hurry to get out of here.
So here is my question Mrs. H: Should I be dating a girl that is so forgetful?
Tell me what you think,
Mike
Dear Mike,
I wouldn't be too concerned. "Miss Forgetful" will probably remember enough that you won't have to worry about it.
By the way, I wouldn’t share this information with your State Farm agent. They can cancel people, you know.
Try not to “flaunt it” any more than you have to.
Mrs. H
Had a strange experience the other night and I wanted to get your opinion.
I had a date over at my house, and the night is going really well.
Suddenly, she leans in and asks softly, “Do you have any protection?”
Well, as you know, I've been around a little, and knew just what she was really asking.
“Absolutely,” I nodded knowingly. “State Farm: homeowners AND vehicle.”
Then, for effect, I whispered in her ear, “100 dollar deductible.”
I know that was probably over the top, but thought if I could make an impression, why not. If you’ve got it, flaunt it.
Her reaction was a little different than expected. She shook her head and pointed down saying, “you know, protection.”
That’s when I realized that this girl was way smart.
How could she possible know that my shoes had steel toes. I mean, there’s no way to tell by looking.
So I smiled and said: “You’re good baby! Do you want to drop something heavy on my toe?”
Ok, Mrs. Higgins, here is the strange part. Instead of maybe stepping on the end of my foot, or putting a table leg on top of my shoe, she is starting to leave.
Turns out she left her curling iron on, a cake in the oven, and her cat outside. She is really in a hurry to get out of here.
So here is my question Mrs. H: Should I be dating a girl that is so forgetful?
Tell me what you think,
Mike
Dear Mike,
I wouldn't be too concerned. "Miss Forgetful" will probably remember enough that you won't have to worry about it.
By the way, I wouldn’t share this information with your State Farm agent. They can cancel people, you know.
Try not to “flaunt it” any more than you have to.
Mrs. H
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Still unsafe at any speed
Dear Mrs. Higgins,
Did the American thing today. Yes, I flipped off an illegal immigrant. (just tryin to do my part)
Ok no, actually I voted. Its always an interesting process. Pretty laid back and easy here. The voter police here in Savoy take it way seriously. Pretty sure they were doing this same job during the Roosevelt election. Not FDR, Teddy.
These girls verified my name, address, and signature. Wish I was as thorough at my job.
That said, as I walk away, I can’t help but think about the price paid for this cushy right I always take for granted. These blue hairs and this process are about as American as you can get.
Its an incredibly beautiful fall day here. Not a cloud in the sky, and I have my flag flying, as do a bunch of my neighbors. The leaves are just about maxed out in a way that only they can.
And I’m thinking: America is a pretty good gig.
So as I step into the booth to set this country aright, I see that Nader is running for president, again.
Really. Ralph freakin Nadar.
It made me want to ask Pamela Anderson out on a date.
“So you’re saying there’s a chance!”
I’m picturing Ralph sitting in his living room, watching the results come in saying:
“Wow! .004 percent. I thought I was gonna carry that state. Should have made one more speech at the local head shop”
Maybe GM will send him a Corvair.
What do you think, Mrs. H?
Mike
Dear Mike,
Don’t be bad mouthing the Corvair. Best car I ever had.
Glad you voted.
Go give your life guard friend a call, but I’d bring penicillin.
Love,
Mrs H.
History note to young readers:
In 1965 Ralph Nader wrote a book called “Unsafe at Any Speed”
blasting General Motors, and the Chevy Corvair particularly. It was the beginning of a whole world of reviewing products for safety, and launched Mr. Nader’s career. The book is credited with actually improving safety design in American autos. So the guy isn’t the useless tool he appears to be. (well almost isn’t)
Did the American thing today. Yes, I flipped off an illegal immigrant. (just tryin to do my part)
Ok no, actually I voted. Its always an interesting process. Pretty laid back and easy here. The voter police here in Savoy take it way seriously. Pretty sure they were doing this same job during the Roosevelt election. Not FDR, Teddy.
These girls verified my name, address, and signature. Wish I was as thorough at my job.
That said, as I walk away, I can’t help but think about the price paid for this cushy right I always take for granted. These blue hairs and this process are about as American as you can get.
Its an incredibly beautiful fall day here. Not a cloud in the sky, and I have my flag flying, as do a bunch of my neighbors. The leaves are just about maxed out in a way that only they can.
And I’m thinking: America is a pretty good gig.
So as I step into the booth to set this country aright, I see that Nader is running for president, again.
Really. Ralph freakin Nadar.
It made me want to ask Pamela Anderson out on a date.
“So you’re saying there’s a chance!”
I’m picturing Ralph sitting in his living room, watching the results come in saying:
“Wow! .004 percent. I thought I was gonna carry that state. Should have made one more speech at the local head shop”
Maybe GM will send him a Corvair.
What do you think, Mrs. H?
Mike
Dear Mike,
Don’t be bad mouthing the Corvair. Best car I ever had.
Glad you voted.
Go give your life guard friend a call, but I’d bring penicillin.
Love,
Mrs H.
History note to young readers:
In 1965 Ralph Nader wrote a book called “Unsafe at Any Speed”
blasting General Motors, and the Chevy Corvair particularly. It was the beginning of a whole world of reviewing products for safety, and launched Mr. Nader’s career. The book is credited with actually improving safety design in American autos. So the guy isn’t the useless tool he appears to be. (well almost isn’t)
Monday, November 3, 2008
Instruction Manual
Dear Mrs. Higgins,
I recently bought one of those all-in-one printer, fax, copier, scanner, expresso maker, liposuction machines. It was under 300 hundred beans from Best Buy, and does everything but sell popcorn at half time.
It even will tell me when its low on toner. It has a reorder web site all queued up and tied to my bank account to pull out whatever it needs, whenever it needs it. (sweet!)
It didn’t come with a manual.
At all.
Not even one page.
Usually you’ll get 6 pages of pictures and instruction to inform you how to safely remove your new “whatever” from the box. Then another several pages dedicated to the safety concerns running that, ever so tricky, electrical plug in.
And, normally there is tons of “valuable information” safeguarding against using the product for something other than intended.
This, I find especially informative. It keeps me from using this computer printer as a life saving floatation device, a claw hammer, or a condom.
Knowledge is power!
Yet, even without the comfort of printed instruction, I’ve kind of figured out how to use the main features, and we’re getting along about as well as the rest of the office.
(aka, nothing has caught fire)
Adjusting to this Brave New World of having to figure out stuff by myself, I’ve pressed on.
Until today, when I bought a new coffee thermos.
It came with instructions.
4 pages. In, I think, 5 languages, hard to tell.
And, ok, I get it. The nuances and complexity of pouring a liquid which could be hot OR cold into a device, then fully expecting that same device to retain same hot or cold (whew!)
And I haven’t even touched on the intellectual labyrinth of trying to get something back out! (what is this, MENSA??)
Well, we soldier on. We play the cards we get. We do what we gotta do.
I’ll pour coffee in that bad boy tomorrow morning, and hope that somehow I can get it back out.
(may even learn a little Chinese/Korean/Farsi in the processes - thats how we grow)
Just hope I don’t receive a fax at the same time.
Much love,
Mike
Dear Mike,
Yeah. You're MENSA material alright. Good luck embracing the technology!
Love,
Mrs Higgins
I recently bought one of those all-in-one printer, fax, copier, scanner, expresso maker, liposuction machines. It was under 300 hundred beans from Best Buy, and does everything but sell popcorn at half time.
It even will tell me when its low on toner. It has a reorder web site all queued up and tied to my bank account to pull out whatever it needs, whenever it needs it. (sweet!)
It didn’t come with a manual.
At all.
Not even one page.
Usually you’ll get 6 pages of pictures and instruction to inform you how to safely remove your new “whatever” from the box. Then another several pages dedicated to the safety concerns running that, ever so tricky, electrical plug in.
And, normally there is tons of “valuable information” safeguarding against using the product for something other than intended.
This, I find especially informative. It keeps me from using this computer printer as a life saving floatation device, a claw hammer, or a condom.
Knowledge is power!
Yet, even without the comfort of printed instruction, I’ve kind of figured out how to use the main features, and we’re getting along about as well as the rest of the office.
(aka, nothing has caught fire)
Adjusting to this Brave New World of having to figure out stuff by myself, I’ve pressed on.
Until today, when I bought a new coffee thermos.
It came with instructions.
4 pages. In, I think, 5 languages, hard to tell.
And, ok, I get it. The nuances and complexity of pouring a liquid which could be hot OR cold into a device, then fully expecting that same device to retain same hot or cold (whew!)
And I haven’t even touched on the intellectual labyrinth of trying to get something back out! (what is this, MENSA??)
Well, we soldier on. We play the cards we get. We do what we gotta do.
I’ll pour coffee in that bad boy tomorrow morning, and hope that somehow I can get it back out.
(may even learn a little Chinese/Korean/Farsi in the processes - thats how we grow)
Just hope I don’t receive a fax at the same time.
Much love,
Mike
Dear Mike,
Yeah. You're MENSA material alright. Good luck embracing the technology!
Love,
Mrs Higgins
Friday, October 31, 2008
Holiday Spirit
Dear Mrs. Higgins,
You know how oversensitive my neighbors can be, so you won’t be surprised by this at all.
Halloween night, and I’ve just got back from my own trick or treating. Kind of a disappointing year actually. Most people just slammed their doors and called 911. (probably thought I actually WAS Spiderman and needed to connect to the proper authorities. Sometimes my costumes are just TOO good)
Anyway, a little tyke, dressed as a leprechaun, shows up at the door. The little guy is adorable in green and all, and in keeping with tradition, I give him a pint of Guiness.
Suddenly his mom appears out of nowhere (I think she was hiding behind a tree) and makes this huge scene. Like really, do you think this 7 year old wanted a Snicker?
I think its about time parents do a little homework, and be a bit more open minded. Its Halloween after all.
So the night moves on, and since traffic is a bit slim, I’m kinda sampling the wares - getting ready for the next onslaught of neighborhood “ghouls and goblins“.
Getting toward the end of the trick or treat time and here comes a Princess. I’m thinking: she must be an Irish princess, so I offer up another pint.
Now this mom, also super overprotective, jumps in and has a “problem”. I know what you’re thinking Mrs. H: “hey, lets get in the spirit of the holiday!”
Shortly after, a kid comes up as R2D2, you know, the robot from Star Wars.
And I’m thinking robot: yes, Irish robot: hell yes! But the Guiness supply is dwindling, probably from all the Leprechauns earlier, but not really sure, so I offer up a piece of corned beef.
Wow.
All I can say is kids aren’t nearly as grateful as they were in my time. Probably too many video games.
Last trick or treaters of the night are a Harry Potter and a hobo. Great costumes. And, as we all know, totally Irish. But the Guiness and corned beef are gone, so all I can pony up is a little piece of cabbage.
(I’m holding back the Jameson in case I develop a cough later tonight - could happen)
Surprisingly, that didn’t go well either. Kids are clearly eating so much McDonalds that they don’t appreciate good quality food.
Anyway, Mrs. H, how was your Halloween? I know your townhouse is a little harder to get to, but I’m sure the kids in your neighborhood are tracking you down.
And more importantly, what’s wrong with the children of America?
Mike
Dear Mike,
Number one problem: you’re 51 and you still are one.
Number two: you may want to put your house on the market.
Sleep it off, and we’ll talk again. Hope your cough gets better.
Mrs H.
You know how oversensitive my neighbors can be, so you won’t be surprised by this at all.
Halloween night, and I’ve just got back from my own trick or treating. Kind of a disappointing year actually. Most people just slammed their doors and called 911. (probably thought I actually WAS Spiderman and needed to connect to the proper authorities. Sometimes my costumes are just TOO good)
Anyway, a little tyke, dressed as a leprechaun, shows up at the door. The little guy is adorable in green and all, and in keeping with tradition, I give him a pint of Guiness.
Suddenly his mom appears out of nowhere (I think she was hiding behind a tree) and makes this huge scene. Like really, do you think this 7 year old wanted a Snicker?
I think its about time parents do a little homework, and be a bit more open minded. Its Halloween after all.
So the night moves on, and since traffic is a bit slim, I’m kinda sampling the wares - getting ready for the next onslaught of neighborhood “ghouls and goblins“.
Getting toward the end of the trick or treat time and here comes a Princess. I’m thinking: she must be an Irish princess, so I offer up another pint.
Now this mom, also super overprotective, jumps in and has a “problem”. I know what you’re thinking Mrs. H: “hey, lets get in the spirit of the holiday!”
Shortly after, a kid comes up as R2D2, you know, the robot from Star Wars.
And I’m thinking robot: yes, Irish robot: hell yes! But the Guiness supply is dwindling, probably from all the Leprechauns earlier, but not really sure, so I offer up a piece of corned beef.
Wow.
All I can say is kids aren’t nearly as grateful as they were in my time. Probably too many video games.
Last trick or treaters of the night are a Harry Potter and a hobo. Great costumes. And, as we all know, totally Irish. But the Guiness and corned beef are gone, so all I can pony up is a little piece of cabbage.
(I’m holding back the Jameson in case I develop a cough later tonight - could happen)
Surprisingly, that didn’t go well either. Kids are clearly eating so much McDonalds that they don’t appreciate good quality food.
Anyway, Mrs. H, how was your Halloween? I know your townhouse is a little harder to get to, but I’m sure the kids in your neighborhood are tracking you down.
And more importantly, what’s wrong with the children of America?
Mike
Dear Mike,
Number one problem: you’re 51 and you still are one.
Number two: you may want to put your house on the market.
Sleep it off, and we’ll talk again. Hope your cough gets better.
Mrs H.
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