“Mad Men,” the Chevy Vega and Me

I’m a fan of the television show “Mad Men,” but it usually takes me a while to get around to watching it. That’s just how I am. I’m on the current season, but haven’t yet watched the show when Don Draper’s advertising agency lands the Chevy account.

What I know about that episode is that Don and company do indeed land the account for the Chevy XP-887.  Oh yeah. I remember that model very well. That’s really the Chevy Vega.

The Chevy Vega was the first new car I ever owned. Growing up in Indiana, I bought the car from a dealer in Friendship—from a dealer that my father bought cars from all his life.

If I remember correctly, I purchased the 1975 model. No, it’s not the one in the photo. My Vega was silver in color.

Vegas became known as lemons. They burned oil, would break down a lot and would become rust buckets. But not my Vega. In the three plus years I owned it; I never once had any problems with it at all. It never burned oil, never broke down and never developed rust. It was a perfect car for me.

The only reason I needed to sell it was because I was getting married. My soon-to-be wife had a newer car, we didn’t need two and I could sell the Vega and make a little money. That was easier said than done.

I think I took it to every GM dealer in Cincinnati. When I would mention I had a Chevy Vega I wanted to sell, people working for those dealerships would almost run away from me. They wanted no part of it.

I needed up selling my Vega to a guy who had just moved to America. He wasn’t aware of how bad the Vega name was. Maybe the name was bad, but my Vega was just fine.

It will be interesting to see how the Chevy Vega plays out in the upcoming episodes of “Mad Men.” It was a decent car for me, but somehow, I don’t see Don Draper ever driving one.

(Image found on Google)  

Beating the Hornets’ Nest

First of all, sometimes the truth is stranger than fiction.

Second of all, sometimes you wish the truth was fiction.

Third of all, I’m sorry that I find this story amusing. Yes, somebody dies in it, but after reading this, I had to wonder if this guy was really living in this world. Was he living in a world of fiction and make believe? And what kind of make believe would this be?

He wasn’t exactly beating the hornets’ nest. He was. . . well, I’ll let Death and Taxes fill you in.

I’ll be back on Sunday. Have a great weekend.

(Photo from ipm.iastate.edu.com)

School Kids and Lunch

Seems like nothing is simple anymore—not even providing elementary school kids lunch.

40 students at R.C. Hinsdale Elementary School in Edgewood, Kentucky weren’t served lunch last week, because they had a negative account balance on their pre-paid lunch accounts. I’m assuming it’s actually the accounts of their parents. Yesterday, a Good Samaritan paid off the 56 dollars owed.  No point in me going into it too much—just click here to read more about it.

Back when I went to grade school—yes, of course, it was decades ago—this type of thing never was a problem. I went to elementary school in Allensville, Indiana. That’s only a few miles from East Enterprise. Still lost? Think small towns around Vevay, Indiana. If you still don’t know where I’m talking about, get a map.

Anyway, school lunches weren’t a problem back then. Why? Because school lunches were free. If a student wanted an extra milk to go along with lunch, it would cost that student two cents to get it. That was the only cost involved with those lunches. And the cooks at Allensville Elementary School were known to be excellent cooks. I’m a kid who ate those lunches, so I can vouch for that. Parents liked their food too. There would be annual dinners (with a cost) to help raise money for the school.   

I know.  I’m getting off the topic here.

Perhaps I’m an idiot, but I still think school lunches should still be free. Raise tax dollars and let those tax dollars pay for it. R.C. Hinsdale Elementary is located in Kenton County, Kentucky. I live in Kenton County. I’ll vote to have my taxes raised for this. Will you? Let the debate begin.

Or maybe just make this simple. If parents won’t want to pay for their kid’s lunches, let the kids brown bag it. There shouldn’t be any debate on that, but what the hell do I know?

(Image from Komonews.com)

The Return of the Bluth Family

If you’re fans of Arrested Development, this is probably old news to you. The show is coming back to television on May 26^th.

Well, I guess Netflix is considered television.  At least give me some credit that I know what Netflix is. I kind of know how it works, but then again I don’t. I don’t keep up on this new stuff, but please don’t feel bad for me or think I’m stupid. It’s my choice.

Arrested Development ran for three seasons on Fox from 2003 to 2006. The show developed a cult following which means it had a small audience which means that the network had to finally cancel it. I found out about the show through my son who put all three seasons on my computer.

I watched every show at least three or four times and laughed my ass off each time. Every time I watched an episode I had already seen, I found something I missed previously. The show is so quick and smart. 

Keep in mind, I was laughing at Arrested Development two or three years after the comedy went off the air.That’s how I am when it comes to good teevee shows. I’m usually a day late and a dollar short. I didn’t find out about Mad Men until the fourth season. Again, enter my son who let me know how good that show is.  

Netflix has produced 15 new episodes of Arrested Development. It may take me a while to get around to watching them (again, I’ve have to count on my son to help me), but I look forward to the return of the Bluth Family. From judging from the previews I’ve seen, the show is still funny and intelligent. You don’t find that very often on the tube these days.

I’ll be back on Thursday.

(Image from bite.com)

My Little Composition Book

Somewhere in my travels over the weekend, I lost my little composition book—looks a lot like the one in the photo. I kept it in my pants pocket, left pocket, along with a Pilot Pen.

I’ve carried these little notebooks around with me for years—just in case I think of something that’s interesting to me, hear somebody say something I find curious or want to make an observation while I’m out and about.

I’ve accumulated over a dozen of these things and I’ve kept them all—but not this one. How it fell out of my pocket, I don’t know.

My name and phone number is on the cover in case you find it. My reward to you will be my Pilot Pen. They all write the same. What I write with them inside those little notebooks isn’t.

(Photo found on Google)

A Dirty Little Book

I got an email from a friend late last week. She’s an older lady and she’ll always be my friend, but I wish she had never purchased my latest book and first novel, “The Hurricane Café.”

I’m not going to copy her whole email here, but this is the part that got my attention:

“If I had known you had written a dirty little book, I never would have bought it and I was shocked at some of the language you used.”

Again, she’ll always be my friend and I don’t feel bad writing about this here, because she doesn’t read this blog and never goes to Facebook where this piece will be posted too. Besides, what I’m writing here is what I’ve already told her.

First of all, my “dirty little book,” isn’t little. Its 380 pages. Second of all, as far as the language goes, she’s read my column in CityBeat for years and I’ve used “bad words” there when I thought it was necessary. Why she’s suddenly “shocked” at some of my word choices is beyond me.

If I said her email didn’t bug me, I’d be lying. This book has never been advertised as a children’s book. It’s adult literature and if you’re a fan of that, more times than not, there’s going to be some sex involved and a few bad words.

Her remarks got me thinking about the sex scenes in the book. There’s really only one and it’s pretty brief. There are a few “scenes” where people aren’t wearing any clothes, but it’s a book—not an ‘R” rated movie or an adult cable television show.

If “The Hurricane Café” were to ever be made into a movie, it would probably be rated ‘PG-13.’ Giving it anything more adult than that would be pushing it.

In answering my friend’s email, I asked her if she finished the book. The answer was no and this made me feel a little better. If a person can’t take the time to finish a book they’ve started, then I can’t take their being a critic too seriously. I want you to not like my work through completion.

If she had read all 380 pages and still thought it was “a dirty little book,” then she missed the story completely. I would be disappointed about it, but I wouldn’t feel all bugged out about it.

Whatever. My friend and I will remain friends—you know, to each his or her own. She asked me what I was currently working on. I’m writing another novel. This one has a sex scene that’s a little more detailed than my last book and there are a few dirty words included too.

I think I’m going to pay her not to buy it.

(Image from Amazon)

Where You At?

The guy sitting beside me on the bus bench in front of the Walgreens in Covington was talking on his cell phone. He asked the person he was talking to, “Where you at?”

After a few seconds, he asked the same question again. “Where you at?”

I pretended like my cell phone was ringing—maybe the guy would think I had it on vibrate. I said “Hello?” into the phone, then after a few seconds, said, “Where are you?” I said it pretty loud hoping the guy sitting beside me would take notice.

The #7 bus pulled up in front of Walgreens. The guy sitting beside me got up to catch the bus. Before he did, he said into his cell phone, “Now is that where you at right now?”

The guy got on the bus. I went home, still talking to nobody on my phone.

We be back on Sunday.