A depression would take some getting used to

I always wondered what life in a depression would be like. Everyone is saying that we'll be in one if the $700-million dollar bail-out plan doesn't pan out.

What's that? It's $700 billion? Well, whatever. $700 mil, bil, tril... is there a difference?

So how do the legislative negotiations work on that, anyway? When negotiating the price of a new car with the dealer, you usually start wheelin' and dealin' with $100 amounts, or so.

What amounts do you start with when you're working out a $700-billion plan? If the senator from Wyoming stands up and says "we should shave $10 million off the plan," is he laughed out of the room for pinching pennies?

If the bail-out plan ends up being $701 billion instead of $700 billion, will anybody care? When did billions become such trivial common place?

Sorry, I got off track. So back to the depression. From what I understand, everything will be very dry. Dust will swirl around and plants will shrivel. Fashions will change. All males will start looking like washed up businessmen--top button undone, wearing a dusty, gray suit. I say "gray" because color will be gone. If you're attached to reds, yellows, and blues, get over them.

Dogs will just run loose in alleys. Wendy's chicken nuggets will no longer be "all-white meat." People will regularly sleep on park benches, whether they have a home or not. It's just what people do in a depression.

"Sorry honey, but it's my turn to sleep on the bench down at Cherryhill Park. I'll see you in the morning." Not only that, but when it's your turn for the bench you can't use a blanket. Only newspapers will do. Newsprint is the only cover that will keep the dew off, especially in a depression.

Lastly, TV, Wii's, and laser tag will be gone. For entertainment we'll have to gather around an old radio and listen to nothing but the news and boxing matches.

No, a depression won't be any good for anyone. For that reason, let's root for the bail-out plan and hope the legislators don't hold things up by squabbling over just a few billion dollars here or there.

Photo: http://library.thinkquest.org/03oct/01794/pictures_page.htm

The halfway hamper

Item #47 on my wife's list of reasons why I don't deserve to be married is the statement "he can't put half his clothes in the laundry after he's worn them."

Ok, so maybe that list doesn't really exist--at least on paper.

Anyway, I've explained the issue many times, with logical reasoning. Yet she still gets upset with the dirty laundry, or so she mistakenly calls it, that piles up in front of my dresser or on the closet floor. But the problem is not with me; it's with the system.

Since the introduction of the washer and dryer into the average American home, the domestic process has dictated that once you wear something you should put it in the laundry pile to be washed. Dirty clothes go in the hamper; clean clothes go in the closet or dresser drawers.

My wife--and as she claims, the rest of civilized society--sees no middle ground between clean and dirty. However, to me it's not all black and white. I see a large gray area.

Before I found a reasonably effective deodorant, pretty much every shirt I wore was a lock for the wash. But now that I'm staying dry for longer periods of time, a few shirts come off me at the end of the day with a little more life still left in them. They may be able to go another half a day, or even more.

Where can a shirt in such a classification go? It isn't clean, so I don't want to put it back on a hanger in my closet. It isn't dirty, so I don't want to put it in the hamper. It's in the gray area, and thus it is homeless.

To my wife's frustration, it ends up on the closet floor where it will remain until I can find an appropriate time to utilize its remaining life.

That's why I created the halfway hamper. It was a large bin for me to throw gray-area clothing into. It was a pit stop for clothes halfway through their wear-and-then-wash cycle.

Unfortunately, my wife found out about my clothing's midpoint and secretly began emptying the whole thing into the wash on laundry day. It hurt; my wife was washing the clothes from my halfway hamper behind my back, despite our relationship built on trust and integrity.

Now I'm going behind her back in publishing this post. My hope is that this article will inspire the halfway hamper's use in more homes until one day I can tell my wife we're not with the times by not having one.

Until then my clothes are getting washed excessively. Please help.

Getting carded for cola

I don’t drink, so I haven’t spent a lot of time in bars. However, last week I was on a trip with a few co-workers. They all drink, so I spent a lot of time in bars and lounges.

The non-alcoholic options are quite limited in such places. If I wanted something to sip on while I chatted with my co-workers, I’d order a water. If I wanted something a bit harder, I’d order up a Coke. But if I wanted to get sloshed, I’d get a Coke on the rocks and keep the refills coming like waves on a beach (I'm only a social soda-drinker; I don't drink it alone very often).

On one particular night, in a lounge at the hotel we were staying at, I was socializing with a glass of cola (on the rocks, of course). I had drank about two when the bartender walked up to the group I was with and asked to see my ID.

“I’m only drinking a soda,” I stated defiantly. The bartender, undeterred, remained until I grudgingly pulled out my driver’s license. It was the first time I had ever needed to prove I was over 21 in order to finish up a glass of pop.

It was a good thing that bartender was there to keep me on the right track. Nobody should be able to drink a pop and watch other people get drunk unless they’re of age.

Getting carded in that lounge got me thinking. Young people should be getting carded in other settings and situations. It could do them good.

The first place to start would be plays and musicals. I know I would have liked getting carded when my mom would talk my family into attending a play. I’d read the program from start to finish about 8 times and there would still be another hour until intermission. A boy at the age of 12 does not have the judgment necessary to agree to attend one of those things.

Another place to start would be sports-card shops. When I’d walk into those places as a young buck I had no self-control. If people would have carded me at those places my savings account would currently be double what it is. You have to buy a lot of packs of cards in order to find the one rookie card you're searching for.

The same goes for firework stands. If I would have been carded by the vendors who supplied me with explosives, the field above my aunt’s house wouldn’t have caught fire and I wouldn’t have gone deaf for a week after lighting a firecracker with a wick the length of a piece of beard stubble.

Yes, if you're going to require ID for a pop in a bar, you might as well take the policy further and really do some good.

What I learned from the conventions

The good thing is, no matter who wins we’re all going to be living in a utopia.

When the candidates were narrowed down to the two idiots we’re currently left with, I was rather disappointed. As a voter, I was going to have to choose between a grouchy war Veteran that married a beer heiress and a hip baller from Hawaii who won’t throw his terrorist friend under the bus.

However, my disappointment fell short at the Democratic convention. That’s when I heard Obama tell me everything was going to be OK. If he wins the presidency, we’ll all be swimming in the love of change.

From his speech, I understood we were going to the doctor for free. There won’t be any more poor people. Someone else will pay our credit card bills. Our mortgages will be forgiven. Everyone will get a college degree. They'll come in the mail to those who don't have them now, like a stimulus check. Nobody, except evil people, will have to pay taxes.

He also informed me, in his speech, that John McCain is horrible person that eats bunnies and puts people in slums.

Then I started to worry. What if he didn’t win? I’d be left without everything he was going to give. I'd have a bunny-eater as my president! However, my worry fell short at the Republican convention.

McCain guaranteed some good things. Based on what I interpreted of his speech, if he won we'd have a fully-decorated war veteran fighting for us. He'd snuff out evil and rip up opposing countries with his bare hands. On election day he'd walk into the White House and punch all the incompetent people in the face. He'd lower taxes even though he's going to go to war with every country that his advisers tell him exists. And McCain would do all this while still maintaining his reputation of a family man.

On the other hand, he indicated, Barrack Obama would flush the country and it's economy down the drain while starring in Hollywood movies.

They sure make themselves sound good in those convention speeches. So what's a voter to do? I don't think it matters. They both said they're going to win the election:

...I intend to win this election and keep our promise alive as President of the United States. -Obama

But let there be no doubt, my friends, we’re going to win this election. -McCain

So what we'll have on our hands, fellow Americans, are two winners in November. Yes, for the first time in history we'll have two winners, two presidents. We won't have to worry about the character of the VP candidates; there won't be any room for one.

A good ol' biarchy. Except we shouldn't get too worried about the new form of government we'll face. Based on what I saw from Hillary in the presidential race, I think we experienced a biarchy from 1992 to 2000.