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)
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)
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.
Some maintenance people were in my apartment last week replacing my PTAC unit and yes, I had to do a Google search on this to get the correct name.
This is a hotel-style heating and cooling unit. That’s what heats and cools my apartment and yes—sometimes I feel like I’m living in a hotel. But I like hotels.
My old PTAC unit was working fine and I didn’t see any need to replace it. That’s what I told one of the maintenance guys installing the new one.
“Oh, this new one is really good,” the guy said. “It’s more efficient.”
“How so?” I replied.
“It’s all computerized,” he said. “It will control the temperature in your apartment much better.”
“Computerized, eh?” I said. “Just more to go wrong.”
I guess I was being negative. Or maybe being honest.
Can you guess the ending to this story? The new and improved PTAC unit isn’t working correctly, doesn’t cool down my apartment much at all. I’m gonna have to get those maintenance guys back out here to check it out.
If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. I’ve said those words many times in my life and that’s what I’m going to tell these guys when they show up.
(Photo from amana-ptac.com)
“Now you know about the lent traps,” I heard Eve say. I looked over at her as she got up from the table.
“It’s very important to remove the lent from those traps,” she said as she removed the lent traps from the dryers and deposited the nonexistent lint into a garbage can. “If you don’t, it can be very dangerous. It can even start a fire!”
“Well, we don’t want that,” I said. “Thanks for reminding me.”
To read my latest column in CityBeat, “Laundry Day,” click here.
(Photo from washerdryerinfo.com)
At the risk of repeating myself (Hell, after writing this blog since 2008, I’m going to repeat myself. That’s a given), I have a suggestion for the Walgreens on Madison Avenue in Covington or any other Walgreens for that matter.
You know that receipt that the cash register spits out automatically? Don’t let it spit out that way anymore. Ask the customer if they want the receipt. If the answer is yes, proceed as normal. If the answer is no, don’t print out the receipt.
I’m guessing that at least 50% of the customers don’t want the receipt. How many times have you got home and thrown it away? Yep, I’ guessing at least 50% of the time.
Mr. Walgreens (I wonder if there really is one), think of the trees and the money you’ll be saving. With those savings, maybe you could give books of matches away like other stores do instead of charging five cents. Books of matches are actually used and not tossed out like those receipts — plus it will show goodwill towards your customers instead of making you look cheap.
I could request you give lighters away from that paper savings, but that would, of course, be stupid.
(Photo from WordPress)
I’ve been living in this apartment building in Covington, Kentucky for nearly four months now and the couple across the hall is still a mystery to me.
I see the guy sometimes. I see him in the elevator, in the basement doing laundry and sometimes over at Walgreens buying Diet Coke. He seems sad to me, seems unhappy. He usually has his head down and says “hello” in a low tone.
I’ve never seen his wife (I’m assuming they’re married), but living across the hall, I can hear her quite often. She has a high pitched, loud voice and yells a lot.
“Fuck that.” “Fuck this.” ” Fuck you!”
She has to be yelling at her husband. Maybe that’s why he seems sad and depressed when I run into him. Maybe he’s beaten down.
Sometimes I think about knocking on their door during the screaming sessions. I want to tell her to stop yelling at her husband, then I think better of it. I mean, again, I’ve never seen the woman. Maybe the guy inside the apartment lives alone. Maybe it’s him doing the yelling and screaming. Maybe he’s doing this to himself. Maybe he’s a psychopath.
One person in there or two, I’m going to mind my own business and keep my door locked. From my previous experience at living on West 10th Street, I’ve learned it’s better not to get involved with the neighbors.
There’s a guy here in Covington who rides around on a bicycle. There’s a lot of people who ride bikes and most you can see. With this guy, you can also hear.
Strapped to the back of his bike is a boombox. Think 1980′s. He’s got the thing running on batteries, I mean it would have to be. He’s got the volume turned up loud so we all can hear.
Think back again to the 1980′s. Think Disco Music. That’s what is playing, that’s what’s blasting out of his boombox. We get to hear his noise as he rides up and down the streets of Covington.
If I go for a walk on a Sunday morning and walk by the Madison Baptist Church on Madison Avenue, I can listen to the service from the street. They pipe what’s happening inside the church to the outside of the church. Why do they think those of us walking by want to hear this? Are those inside trying to “save” those outside?
I wish some toy company would start to make that “Mr. Microphone” again. Yep, think 1980′s again. As I’m walking down the sidewalk, I want to make comments on that guy riding his bike with the boombox and I’ve also got a few things to say about that church polluting the sidewalk with their Sunday service.
Other people’s noise: I’m so fed up, I think I want to make some of my own.
Being as I write about it so much, one would think that the bus bench on the side of Walgreens in Covington, Kentucky is my social gathering point. I don’t know if I could argue with that.
There I was sitting on that bus bench again one sunny afternoon. Terry, a guy I know who used to work for a company I did some freelancing work for, walked by with his new girlfriend. He had to tell me his name as I didn’t remember it.
After a few seconds of mindless chit-chat, he wanted to know if I had the phone number of the guy he used to work for and who I did the freelancing. I told Terry I thought I had the number somewhere and to give me his cell phone number and I’d call him. As he told me his number, I punched it into my cell phone.
A day later, I found the number. I gave Terry a call and got this message.
“You’ve reached Terry. I’m not available right now. Please do me a favor and don’t leave me a message.”
Fine. I didn’t leave a message and didn’t the next two times I called either. I’m not calling him anymore. I’m done with this bullshit.
When I think about Terry’s message, and I don’t think about it that much, I’m thinking he doesn’t want a message left because his girlfriend listens to them. It seems like this was an issue with his old girlfriend. She used to listen to his messages and get all pissed off about some of them. I remember Terry talking about this in the office once.
So, I get the message, Terry, and I’ll deal with it, but if you want that phone number, you’ll gonna have to call me. If I’m not around, please leave a message. I don’t have a girlfriend and don’t have anything to hide. I think I’m in a better place than you.
(Image from WordPress)
Screwing around on YouTube one afternoon last week, I came across this thing called “Country’s Family Reunion.” Apparently, it’s on the RFD-TV network and features a lot of old time Country Music acts.
These clips were right up my alley as a lot of these performers I knew during my music days when I was a kid (I’ve talked about this before—you all know my strange history). When watching those clips, I composed a list. It is as follows and not in any kind of order. . .
Larry Butler: Dead
Jan Howard: Not dead
Freddie Hart: Not dead
Bill Anderson: Not dead
Grandpa Jones: Dead
Leroy Van Dyke: Not dead
Little Jimmy Dickens: Not dead (gee, how old is this guy?)
Merle Kilgore: Dead
Charlie Pride: Not dead
Bobby Lord: Dead
Skeeter Davis: Dead
Charlie Lovin: Dead
Bill Carlisle: Dead
Johnny Paycheck: Dead
Jim Ed Brown: Not dead
Crystal Gayle: Not dead
Charlie McCoy: Not dead
While Charlie McCoy may not be dead, as you will see in the clip up above, he’s slowed down quite a bit. I’m winking here.