A modest proposal

By | April 1, 2025

So here’s my plan. I take some of my hypothetical millions and open a store selling the kinds of things that difficult “I-want-to-talk-to-the-manager” types go for. Could be crafts, could be food, could be baked goods. However, I build the store with a certain extra feature: a room off to the side of the checkouts with a buzzer that can be activated by pressing a button at the customer service desk.

This button would be labeled “GRAW!”

Whenever that button is pressed, the employee who sits inside that room watching TV or playing computer games immediately puts on the head and claws of the dinosaur costume that he/she is already wearing, and comes lurching through that door going “GRRRAAAAWWWW!” Since the employee will have no idea at that moment who’s being difficult, the person who pressed the button will have to point.

I’m thinking it might be nice to have a not-too-loud siren/ringing bells and red flashing lights go off at the same time, and maybe even a computerized voice that calls out “Warning: GRAW!”

We would have to be careful not to overuse GRAW and we’d definitely not want to utilize GRAW when someone is trying on purpose to be difficult in hopes of getting GRAW to come out.

Imagine it now:

Customer: ARGLEBARGLE ARGBLEBARGLE RAR RAR

Employee: Ma’am, that coupon is expired, it’s not for the product you’re buying, and it’s actually for our competitor across the parking lot.

Customer: ARGH! MANAGER! MANAGER! ENTITLEMENT!

Employee smacks the GRAW! button and steps back.

A siren goes off. Lights flash. A door flies open and out comes GRAW the dinosaur.

GRAW: “GRAW!”

Employee: You wanted to speak to our manager, ma’am?

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Beer Poking

By | January 20, 2025

A mug of Stone Corral "MEXICAN CHOCOLATE MOUSSE CAKE" beer, after poking

Today was of course a day of somber regret and desperation, as the Orange Dickhead became President again. I did not watch one single moment of the inauguration and I am not hanging on tenterhooks doomscrolling through his “first day” actions on X (née Twitter).

Instead, I focused on house tidying and other such things while idly contemplating how the lessons of Martin Luther King Jr. are willfully overlooked by an increasing percentage of our population.

I reformatted and installed fresh images on two older laptops I intend to donate to the local charity who takes such things. One of them was a Windows 10 laptop that was never going to take Windows 11 but who knows, someone might find a use for it.

I worked on decluttering and tossing out various unneeded tchotchkes that have been lying around gathering dust. I am, regrettably, an acquirer of tchotchkes.

I picked up a couple of loaves of challah that our local synagogue and Quakers were selling as a fundraiser — you pay in advance and then go get your loaves out of a cooler on someone’s porch when the pickup day comes. I’m sure it’s not that unusual, but still, it seems kind of Vermont-y to me to drive one’s car up to someone’s house after dark, crunch one’s way through the snow and up their steps, fish a couple of half-frozen loaves of challah out of a cooler, cross one’s name off a list on a clipboard, then retrace one’s steps and so on to home.

I took some caffeinated teabags to our church and put them in the big multi-compartment tea box that we put out during hospitality time. It’d gotten to the point that there was literally nothing in that box other than rooibos tea, decaffeinated tea, and chamomile tea. I am sure people enjoy those — I do, even — but there are often times that you want to have something with caffeine, especially after sitting through a 75-minute church service in a warm sanctuary. Sometimes you just have to do things yourself, so I took by some Constant Comment, some Earl Grey, and a whole bunch of chai teabags. Our long national nightmare is over.

But the highlight of the day was the beer poking at our local microbrewery, Stone Corral. I believe I can safely count myself among the vast majority of Richmonders who had never heard of such a thing as “beer poking” until very very recently. Stone Corral put out a listing in the local community forum five days ago — “beer poking from 1:00 pm to 4:00 pm on Monday the 20th”. I thought the choice of date and time was odd until I remembered that a lot of folks, me included, get MLK Day off — and that if there was ever a day to consume alcohol, it would be the 2024 Inauguration Day.

What is beer poking? Allow me to quote from the event listing:

“Make the most of a chilly winter day and join us to celebrate a centuries-old winter tradition: Beer Poking! Dating back to 17th-century Germany, this practice involves heating a metal rod until red-hot and plunging it into a beer. The result? A warmed brew with a caramelized, toasted flavor that’s perfect for the season. There will be an outdoor fire, heaters, hot cocoa for the little ones, and of course — beer! Poking will be done 1pm — 4pm, don’t miss it!”

Carole and I got to the restaurant around 2 pm on a bitterly cold, sunny day. The parking lot was full of cars and smoke was rising from an open fire surrounded by curious onlookers. One had to go inside to get a mug of beer — per the restaurant, the darker the better — and then come out to get “poked”. Unsurprisingly — this is a small Vermont town, after all — I ran into multiple acquaintances while waiting in line. It was the high point of the day for everyone!

What was the “poked” beer actually like?

Well, theoretically the poking was supposed to partly caramelize the beer (hence the recommendation for a dark beer that would have lots of stuff to caramelize) and give it an interesting taste. I’m not really sure it did; it made for a warm head of froth atop the beer, but the beer itself (mine was an “Mexican Chocolate Cake Mousse” Imperial Stout) hadn’t changed that much. Still, there was some novelty value to it. Perhaps I should get a branding iron and build a big fire at my house some day and keep poking beer until I find the perfect duration to get the optimal result.

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So long, Mark

By | January 16, 2025

I am not going to be deleting my Facebook account, Instagram account, and Threads account just yet, but after the absolutely reprehensible things Meta and Zuckerberg did over the past few days, such as eliminating all transgender accomodations at Meta offices, discontinuing fact-checking, allowing users to refer to GLBTQ individuals as “mentally ill” and “freaks” and women as “property”, discontinuing Meta’s diversity, equity, and inclusion programs, removing all GLBTQ themes from Messenger… and so on, and so on, it’s obvious that any decent person has no business giving Meta and Zuckerberg a single click or penny of advertising revenue.

If there’s a palace revolution of some kind and Zuckerberg is put out on an ice floe in the Arctic Ocean, I might come back. But for now … if you want to find me, I’ll be at @jayfurr.bsky.social.

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Key West Trip

By | January 15, 2025

We recently took a 7-night trip to Key West, Florida. We arrived the Friday before Christmas and flew back the Friday after.

Highlights included: drinking, eating, bar crawling, more drinking, skydiving, boating (twice, on boats we drove ourselves), going to church on Christmas Eve, visiting Fred the Tree on the old Seven-Mile Bridge, miniature golfing, and more drinking. We stayed in a bed-and-breakfast just off Duval Street, literally overlooking the Hemingway House. The day before we left, we made a trip to the Hemingway House and paid the admission, solely so we could walk around the grounds and molest as many of the sixty-odd cats living there as we could manage.


This was our room. It was small, no question. We’re pretty used to high-end hotels, and this was different — the (king-size) bed took up most of the room. But it was comfortable, with A/C we could control ourselves, and a small balcony that looked right over the pool of the Hemingway House. We could look at those cats (or the tourists who visited their abode) day or night. One night, I looked over and saw a bride-and-groom couple fleeing into the bathrooms for a quick break from their guests, presumably waiting for them at their reception on the opposite lawn.

The B&B had a separate entrance for every room, all named after European cities. We were in the Pamplona room. The central courtyard had a small pool, or essentially a long hot-tub, and they served breakfast on the pool deck. There was also an advertised “free happy hour” which turned out to be pretty minimal, beer and wine but no spirits.

But anyway, we enjoyed the visit and we’d stay there again, all other things being equal. Being a minute off Duval Street was very convenient, and surprisingly, there really wasn’t much noise to keep us up at night. We just have to get used to staying in a smaller accommodation, and maybe bringing less stuff. We do not know how to travel light. 🙂

And for kindness’ sake, we should promote our hosts: https://www.andrewsinn.com/

 

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Spontaneous Pain, Leg Edition

By | January 14, 2025
A man clutching his ankle as the ankle radiates little lightning bolts representing pain

I have had a throbbing, occasional pain just above my right ankle, on the outside of the leg, for a couple of years now. Probably screwed it up somehow doing a Susan G. Komen 3-Day or training for one or something. The pain comes and goes and can be pretty intense at times.

I finally saw a doctor about it and got X-rayed (they found nothing out of the ordinary) and wound up going to sports medicine and a rehab gym. Today the sports medicine people gave me an injection of some anti-inflammatory or another, right in the center of the pain in what they told me was a nerve cluster of some kind. I knew they had the spot dead center because as the needle went in and they began to inject whatever it was, the pain went THROBBA THROBBA in protest.

So I’m home now, sitting here working, and wasn’t expecting anything unusual. Turns out “unusual” is in the cards for today, as just now when I was talking to Carole on the phone I suddenly found myself going “HOLY F___, ARGH, F___, F____” and so on, right in Carole’s ear. Far from vanishing as the anti-inflammatory took effect, the pain was back with a vengeance… but this time as much more of a sharp, stabbing pain than had formerly been the case.

Yay!

It’s stopped for now and I sure as heck hope it doesn’t come back.

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Zara

By | January 13, 2025

I guess I’m not all bad if a kitty this nice is willing to hang out with me.

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Snow

By | January 10, 2025
Snow on the railing of our deck, with a tall snow-covered spruce tree behind it

Since I’ve posted about cold and snow recently, I thought I had better show you the end result of the most recent winter storm that came through northern Vermont. We got about a foot, or perhaps a little more as the snow had had a little time to compress by the time I took the photo above. It’s very fluffy snow but it’ll be good for snowshoeing after a day or two. I want to stress that this is in no way a complaint; it’s good for our economy when we get fresh snow and in any event, it beats hell out of wildfires such as the Los Angeles area is currently dealing with. It’s also nothing compared to the inconvenience and danger that a lot less snow presents when it falls in the South, where they have no idea how to drive in it and don’t even own snowplows and salt trucks. My prayers for everyone in LA and in Georgia and other places currently dealing with life-threatening situations.

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Many are cold, but few are frozen

By | January 9, 2025
Zara the kitty, sitting on a pillow with a snowy winter scene behind her

I am very stupid in certain ways. I live in a snowy northern clime (northern Vermont) but my Southern upbringing makes me want to get up in the morning, put on a t-shirt, underwear, and shorts and wander around the house barefoot all day.

There typically comes a point where I realize that continual boosting of the thermostat is ineffective and costly and that I should just, you know, put on a sweater or sweatshirt — or even long pants and socks. And then I finally go put on some warmer clothes and go “Oh, I feel all cozy now” and my cats look at me like I’m a complete idiot, which I am.

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Existential Dread — Malört Edition

By | January 2, 2025
So obviously tonight’s a Jeppson’s Malort kind of night (my team, the Georgia Bulldogs, having pooched it in the Sugar Bowl), and when I went to find the four minibottles remaining in my pack of six, I COULDN’T FIND THEM.
I was left with several alternatives, all worrisome or outright frightening:
  1. some thief had broken in and stolen only them (why???)
  2. they had evolved intelligence and were plotting against me from behind the wainscotting
  3. I had actually drunk them in a midnight sleepwalking binge of some kind and somehow not remembered in the morning (the aftertaste of gasoline and bitter grapefruit not being a sufficient clue?)
In any event, the knowledge that SOMEWHERE IN MY HOUSE four minibottles of Malört were lurking and I DIDN’T KNOW WHERE really bothered me.
But I finally found them lurking behind my bottle of Luxardo.
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