Goldilocks and the 3 Bears

 Let's pick up the story in roughly the middle of the action.

... Goldilocks first sampled Papa Bear's porridge, "Holy shit, that's hot," she cried, tossing down the spoon and heading over to Mama Bear's bowl. Which is seriously rude. I mean you walk into a house and find no one there, so you just help yourself to a bowl of hot porridge.  But then, it's not at your preffered temperature, so you figure maybe the others are palatable.  

 But then, Mama Bear's porridge was too cold and so Goldilocks moved on to Baby bear's food which was "Just right"

 

Ok - right there.  Maybe Mama Bear's porridge was next to the air conditioner or an open window or something, but probably, it was colder than the rest because it was in a smaller bowl.

But why would Mama Bear be eating less than even the baby?

 I'll tell you why.  Because Mama Bear was on a diet because of all of the unrealistic expectations put on her by the media.  Papa Bear too. He'd always slide in the seemingly innocuous comment about had Mama Bear added a couple pounds.

 "Woah, somebody's getting ready to hibernate!" was one of his favorite digs.  But it really left Mama bear feeling bad about herself.  

It wasn't until she realized she was a lesbian and broke with Papa that she found true love and happiness.

 

The End.  

February 26, 2020

The following was written (and never posted) on February 26, 2020.  I have not changed a word.  I think I must've thought I had more to add or something. I couldn't add anything to it now, because I am not that person anymore. I am way less naive after everything that happened in 2020.  I think I've still only scratched the surface of my delusion.

~~~

The following happened yesterday. It made me a little sad because I think my faith in humanity was probably slightly elevated at the time.  And then ...

I used to take my dry cleaning to Nu Trend on about 77th and Cass. It's next door to the tobacco shop that used to be Ted Lechnowski's Bike/Hockey shop.

I usually drop my dry cleaning off after work so I always see the same person at the counter. She's a kindly, elderly woman of slight build and auburn (probably dyed) hair.  

One time last winter, there was a little suffering bird just inside the shop door, next to a small waste basket.  She told me that it was on the sidewalk this morning when she got there and she was hoping it would recover. She had set up a dish of water and some sort of meal for the doomed creature. She was very sad about it. It was a little awkward, because it seemed like she might cry. I was thinking the bird was too far gone (it was mostly dead when I walked in and all dead when I left). But I admired the compassion she had for the helpless little bird. 

Yesterday I went in to pick up some dry cleaning up and drop some off. I walked in and she said "Hinsley" by way of greeting. I smiled and took a fun size snickers bar from the candy bowl at the counter. I stuck the candy in my pocket and she kind of smiled. It was a little bit of a funny gesture, so her smile was appropriate.

Then she told me about people come in and say, "Is this free?" and grab a huge handful. She went on to tell me how angry it makes her.  I made a sort of "Pauline" comment by way of acknowledgement like "Don't they have food at home?" 1 Cor 11:34. 

"And you know, It's always the coloreds" she said back. I might have understood the audacity if she had pronounced my name correctly. It would have meant she knows my relatives and feels it's safe to go full Klan on me.  But no. She said "Hinsley" not "Hinsley."

It made me sad, but it is a wake-up call. Whenever I start thinking things are better than they used to be, the kindly old shop lady is there to remind me that I'm fooling myself.  Well, not anymore. I'm going to start going somewhere else. After I get my dry cleaning back.

The weird thing is that "Max I Walker" sounds much more Aryan than "Nu Trend". Especially if you pronounce "Walker" with a "V". 

 

~~~

That was 2 weeks before we started working from home and 21 months ago. I haven't been to a dry cleaner since.  We all knew about the coronavirus when I wrote this. We also knew about racial tensions between a political party and a race of people.  We just didn't know how bad it was yet.

The Return of the Hammer

The Keystone Trail in Omaha is a multi-use trail that starts around 88th and Fort St. and goes South for several miles.  It connects to other trails and is part of a nice network of safe pathways for people and pets to walk, run, bike, sleep on - or whatever.

Since there are all sorts of people on the trail, it is good form to carefully navigate around all children, dogs, and others when passing. It is also good form to not make any unexpected movements. Being predictable is nice.

One big problem that has plagued the trail over the years is the Keystone Hammer.  I first heard of this phenomenon from Brian Redemske. I think he came up with the term.

From my understanding, the Keystone Hammer is a cyclist who is using the trail as his own personal race track.  He is in a race with everybody on the trail. It looks a lot like Mario Kart. The safety of anyone on the trail, including himself, is secondary. The most important thing is winning the race.  So if a couple of children are walking on this nice spring day with their pop-pop, they better stay the hell out of the way. What do they think this is? A multi-use path? No. Keep those brats to the right or I WILL run them down! I am the Hammer, and I'll not put my PR for this segment in jeopardy!

Or something like that.

Note: I just went to Brian Redemske's blog page thing to look up his entry on the Keystone Hammer and was denied access. I'm sure it's personal.

At different points in my life, I have been a keystone hammer. Not for many years. It is sort of a lonely business. It's also a bit of a bully mentality. A bully is someone whose confidence is strictly results driven and easily shaken by one bad experience.

I haven't noticed any Hammers in a long, long time. I am not sure the reason. Most likely because I have spent increasingly less time on the trail in the last 10 years or so.

It seems to me that there is generally less traffic on the Keystone as there was 10 years ago. But I could be wrong.

The last few days however has seen a huge resurgence. With the ultra nice spring weather and everyone being cooped up in their homes lately, the trail has regained some of its early popularity.

Along with that comes the New Keystone Hammer.  He's got a new look, but he's still the hammer.

The old Keystone Hammer was ALWAYS a roadie. He was usually kitted in US Postal or Discovery gear. Sometimes he had clip on aero bars, but he was definitely a roadie.

The New Keystone Hammer is way too cool for a road bike, gramps. He has to ride either a gravel (not cyclocross) or fat bike.  Extra credit for a nicely coiffed beard.

I encountered this creature yesterday.  What follows is my 100% accurate account.

I was on the Keystone starting my solo WNW ride, heading towards the Democracy park trailhead when I noticed a fat bike ahead. It was maybe 400 yards ahead. There was a fairly strong tailwind, so I was easily cruising at around 23 MPH.  After a couple of minutes, I was not noticeably closer to the fat bike. This surprised me. I didn't do anything other than note that I was not yet passing this guy.

Eventually, It became clear that I was ever so slowly getting closer to the guy.

Eventually, I passed him with the friendly "On your left" greeting that is requested by the trail sign maker guys.

Oh, I forgot to mention, it was 73 degrees out and sunny. A frickin' perfect day.

I had no idea yet that I was passing a New Keystone Hammer. In fact I didn't even yet know there was such a thing.

 After I passed the fat bike, the guy said "Get a real bike."

When I tell my wife about these encounters, she often tries to see the big picture. She can tell that I am telling her about somebody being a dick, and she wants to just let me know that I'm looking at it the wrong way.

When I got to the part where the guy said, "Get a real bike." she jumped in with "He was just giving you some crap. Friendly trash talk."

Did I say, " ... and that is the end of my story. What do you think?"

Because that "just giving me crap" theory was one I held as it was happening.

It went like this:

"Get a real bike"

Me thinking: haha, that's good. I am going to chat with this guy to:
1) see if it's somebody I know.
2) if not, chat about biking in general, and what he thinks of his fat bike in particular.

So I slowed down to let him come up beside me and chat.

As I turned to see where he was, he shouted at me,

"Dude, I WILL run you over!"

Uh oh.

He's not a friend. He's not "Giving me crap." He's mad. real mad.

But what is he mad at?

He's mad at me.

Why?

Because I passed him. He figured out that I must be going faster than him and it's not fair because he is more of a man than I am and so it must be the bike. If it's not the bike, then he is a completely worthless example of a human being. I mean, what is all this training for if some sissy-boy on a purply bike can just zip by?  Yeah. Totally the bike.

So I moved over to the far left side of the trail to let the hammer pass me and avoid being run over. I sat behind him for a very uncomfortable moment and then said "I don't think you're going to run me over because you ..."

"Dude, shut the fuck up," he requested.

" ... can't catch me," I continued.

And with that, I went back around him. I shouted back "Have a nice day" and drilled it. Reviving my old school Keystone Hammer ways. I mean - I was flying. 30 MPH? Probably. Maybe faster.  Little kids and dogs put into unnecessary danger? Most definitely. I weaved in and out of all manner of foot and bike traffic. Grazing walkers and startling toddlers. Parents everywhere shaking their fists at me.  People yelling "Slow down!" causing me to push even harder. Slow down on MY trail? NEVER! You must be confusing me with the Fat Biker back there.

My lungs were burning almost as much as my legs. At this point a tragic mishap was both likely and welcomed. Anything to stop the pain. But no. Everybody got lucky and stayed out of my way. Dude, I WOULD have run them over!

Then I kicked a puppy and knocked some baby birds out of a nest from a low hanging branch. 

The Original Keystone Hammer is back baby!

Prognostication again.

I know I've made predictions like this before. But here is where I predicted the end of a local legend. Granted, I was off by four and a half years when, four and a half years and 30 minutes ago,  I said,

 "Petrow's is stupid and when all of their customers die of old age in 30 minutes or so, Petrow's will be no more.  So sad."

Here's the lame story about the lame restaurant that didn't even have the decency to go out of business correctly. They just quit. They hated it as much as I did and didn't want their progeny to be saddled with the horror that is their *onion ring policy.

At least they did one thing right.  FTG.


*Review: Petrow's offered its patrons a choice of side with some of their meals. Fries or onion rings.
Fries: a pile of fries with 2 onion rings on top.
Onion rings: 2 onion rings.

This is all detailed in my stellar write up linked above. And Here.

Something for Fredcube

With football season in full swing, I figured it was time for me to dust off the tale of my greatest moment on the gridiron.

It was while I was in High School. I was a senior at Omaha Central. I was positioned as sort of a weak side tight end. Our quarterback was the legendary Mike Matya.

Normally, high school games are played on Friday Night. But this was a special game. It was Saturday morning at the University of Nebraska at Omaha's Al Caniglia field. It was a fine Autumn day. Mild temps and sunny.

Even though I was a senior, I had never played even a single snap at Central. To anybody who knew me back then, it would be no surprise since I wasn't on the football team.

It's a shame, too, because boy did I ever have the moves.

I was always pretty sure I could have been a great receiver. Not that I could catch or anything. Growing up in Nebraska, catching the ball never seemed all that important.

I just knew that if I got out into space with the ball ... good luck getting a hand on me.

Not that I was a fast runner or anything. I just figured my evasiveness would be enough.

It was.

What I was good at was goofing around in class. In sophomore year, I took English from Mr Heck.

Brian Carlson was also in that class. Since my name was "Cube" and his was Carlson, we initially sat next to each other in class. That didn't last too long. Mr Heck, for no reason whatsoever, decided to move me clear to the other side of the room from Brian.
 
My new seat was on the weak side of the room, directly behind the legendary Mike Matya. He wasn't legendary yet. But he had a good sense of humor.

Also he was much smarter than Brian or me. When I made some stupid joke, Mike would suppress all kinds of laughter. He was good at it. He was enjoying the jokes that Brian and I made, but not foolish enough to join in. That's how people get in trouble. I hear.

Lots of football players thought I was funny, but Mike was the only one to make sure we were always invited to parties.  This was cool because they were football player parties.

It was a little scary being a smart-ass around a bunch of half-drunk big aggressive football types. But Mike was their QB and always had our backs.

That's also how I got to play football at UNO one fine Saturday morning.

The night after some game, I was at a party and Mike invited Greg and me to join a bunch of them the next morning. "Hell Yeah!" we said.

Greg and I were the only ones there that weren't football players. I wasn't concerned though because I knew if I got the ball, it would be lights out. Sure these guys were bigger and faster than me. But like I said, I had the moves.

How did I know? Well, I'd had plenty of practice. What I'm about to explain is no exaggeration. This was my exact thinking at the time.

Central was a pretty crowded school. We had exactly 4 minutes to get from one class to another. That included going from class to my locker, swapping out my book and getting to the next class while everyone in the school was trying to do the same.

It was madness. But I had what I considered an amazing talent of foreseeing where the holes were going to open or close. I always navigated my way through the crowd with such ease that I imagined I could be one hell of a running back. I'd cut. I'd spin. I'd weave. I would always maintain book security and I'd get to class in record time without ever being touched. It never occurred to me that nobody was trying to touch me but still. It was a lot more than 11 people in a hallway a lot narrower than a football field. My logic is sound.

So about 15 or so guys showed up that morning.  I was so happy because I got to be on Mike Matya's team. I was even happier than he was!

So the very first play of the game, Mike received the snap (he held the ball and counted off some number of 'huts') and we were off. I didn't know what I was doing. I was probably out of position or something because nobody was anywhere near me. I waved for the ball, but it turns out it was a quarterback keeper or something.  For no gain.  Oh well.

Second play of the game. Hut, hut, HIKE! and we're off again. I am all alone out there, waving like a madman. Mike telegraphed a fake to me and tossed a perfect strike into the hands of one of his favorite targets. Pass complete to some other jock for about 4 yards.

Well this went on and on for quite some time. I was always open and never got the ball. We'd be stopped after a couple of first downs and then the other side would get the ball.

On defense, I was exactly the same amount of effective. I always ran toward the ball but it was always somewhere else. That made sense to me though. I had never practiced running into people in the hallway. It wasn't my thing.

Then it happened.  3rd and long and I was open. Mike looked at me and his eyes said "Yeah, well, sure. I guess," It was like if eyes could shrug.

Mike dumped the ball off to me and I was off to the races. I saw a tackler coming for me and neatly stepped out of the way. Then another and another. My 'passing period training' was paying off huge. I ran for everything I had and they were all missing me. It was glorious. I was finally stopped after a 25 yard gain! 25 freaking yards! Mike was laughing. I had basically just run through a bunch of actual football players and made the biggest gain of the day. True story.

The joy I felt was great, but really did not belong to me. The universe, realizing the error, rectified immediately.

The stunning revelation the football players had was that I was no ordinary runner. I could not be brought down with a normal tackle. The people away from the action had witnessed something few ever get to see.

These "real" football players with all of their experience and training could not hit me because they expected me to be some place else when they lunged at me. I was literally too slow to catch.

"You guys should have seen that," Jon Jones was saying to everybody. "He was moving so slow and everybody was missing him. Hilarious."

Thanks Jon. That joy felt odd anyway.

After that, I just plowed into people on my way to class. FTG.

My chat with Wesley. SiriusXM's "real human"

10:40 AM

SiriusXM:      Hi, I'm the Sirius XM Virtual Agent. I'm here for you!
                                        May I have your first and last name?

You:    Fred Cube

SiriusXM: Thanks, may I also have your phone number, including your area code?

You: 000-000-0000

SiriusXM: Thanks, again.  How can I help you?

You: When I try to use the mobile app, I am getting a message that says "We found your account, but your subscription does not include streaming"

SiriusXM: Okay, I can help you with that. Are you trying to log into your SiriusXM account? Or log into SiriusXM Streaming Radio so you can listen online?

You: log into streaming radio app to listen online from my iphone

SiriusXM: No problem. Follow this link to recover your SiriusXM Streaming Radio username and password.  Did that help?

You: No

SiriusXM: I'll try to do better in the future. Would you like me to connect you with a specialist who can help you right now?

You: Yes

10:40 AM You're now chatting with Wesley.

Wesley:  Hi, my name is Wesley. Thank you for contacting SiriusXM.  Fred, let me access your account and help you to access the app.

You: Hello - I am trying to listen using the app on my phone. I am getting a message that I don't have streaming with my subscription

Wesley:  In order to assist you with your request, I will need to access your account. For security reasons, can you please provide the  complete address, including zip code?

You: ___ Omaha NE ___

10:32 AM

Wesley:  That matches. Certain changes made on your account may result in us sending you an email confirming the changes.  Is fred.cube@email.com your current email address?

You: yes

Wesley:  Perfect. May I know you are trying to access the app with the username: fred.cube@email.com case-sensitive.

You: yes. i am able to login i am unable to listen since I get the message that my subscription does not include streaming (which I've used before).

Wesley:  I get that. Your radio is now under Select Lite plan and this will not allow you to access the online streaming services.

You: When did that change - because I used it this morning, yesterday, a few days ago and so on?  also - if I go to my contract agreement, it says that I have streaming.

Wesley:  I get your concern. Do to [sic] technical glitch you were able to access this app.  I have not heard from you in a while and your chat window shows you've been idle, are you still with me?

You: yes - I was wondering what was going on. Sorry.

Wesley:  Let me explain this for you.

You: Can you point me to what exactly the "Select Lite" offers.

Wesley:  There are 2 plans that is Select and Select lite.  The select lite have same channels what Select plan have however it will not have any online streaming option.

You: ok - what is the regular price for "Select Lite"? I don't see it on your site.

Wesley:  The regular cost for both the package cost $15.99/month + fees and taxes.

You: Select costs the same as select lite?

Wesley:  Yes you are correct.

You: then why did I get switched to select lite?

Wesley:  I see that your radio was under this same plan form Jul 29, 2019 after the free trial ended.

You: the select lite?

Wesley:  Yes you are correct.

10:50 AM

You: ok so I did not want to pay the $15.99 after the free trial so I was going to cancel. The person I talked to offered me this for $5/month (plus fees/tax). But you're telling me that the regular price is the same as select lite. so after my special price ($5) goes away (08/01/2020) I will be paying $15.99 for a service that has no streaming but costs the same as the one that has streaming?  Some people call me a stable genius.

Wesley:  I do understand your concern however now my hands are tight [sic] and can not help you with the Select promo offer that you have now.  If we make any changes then you will lose the promo offer.

You: no - I'm neither concerned nor asking for anything else. I am just trying to make sure I understand.

Wesley:  I get that.

You: I'm not angry or demanding anything. I was just confused because I was able to use streaming until just now. it is seriously (that's how you're supposed to spell serious) no problem. I just wanted to make sure I wasn't doing something wrong. I do have one other request though ...  If you get a chance, could you go down to the tech guys and ask them to reinstall that glitch. It would really be helpful for me. Thanks.

Wesley:  Sure. We have already got few customers with the same technical glitch and have updated to your team.  They are working on it.

You: Thanks Wesley - Although I think something is getting lost in translation. I'm going to go now.

Wesley:  Thank you for understanding.  Is there anything else that I can assist you with today?

Summer Evening

This is another early memory in a voice similar to this one.

The boy knew God.  He knew him well.  He used to talk to him all the time.  There was never any fear.  There was always awe and reverence.  He was taught to say his prayers each night before he went to bed.

He would kneel down with his mother watching as he clasped his hands, closed his eyes, and began,

“Now I lay me down to sleep”

He would say for his mother’s benefit.  In his mind he was slightly embarrassed.  He knew God was listening, and that he and God would start talking for real in a few minutes.  But this was for his mother.  Not God.

“I pray the lord my soul to keep.”

Then he clearly heard in his mind the voice of God, who sounded a lot like his dad, assuring him that yes, he’d keep his soul

“If I should die before I wake …”

In his head, he was saying to God, I don’t want this part about the dying in my sleep.  I mean, yeah – if I do die, by all means, take my soul – but what I’m saying is I don’t want to die.  I only mention it because That’s how mom says you go to heaven.

“I pray the lord my soul to take.  Amen.”

Next he would climb into bed and get a kiss from mom.  She’d turn out the light and the real prayers would begin.

The bed was warm.  The footie pajamas were comfortable.  The cowlick on the front right side of the boy’s head was in full bloom.  Every night, the boy would take his index finger and feel the way the cowlick stuck out.  He’d twirl the hair round and round asking the real god question after question.

The boy loved God for a while.  God was always patient and loving to the boy.  He always helped the boy work through things he didn’t understand.

After a while, though.  The boy learned more about God.  He didn’t learn it from God.  He learned it from Church.  He learned about the things that were sins.  He found out that if you do any of those things, then you go to hell to live with the devil forever.  You don’t go to live with God. 

The boy examined his life, and realized to his horror that he had stolen and he had lied.  Both of these things were on the list. 

The only conclusion this boy could come to was that he was going to spend eternity in Hell.  He was 5 years old.

He didn’t want to talk to God anymore.  He knew that his parents and brother were going to go to heaven and he would be eternally separated from them in hell because he had taken an orange circus peanut candy from a grocery store while nobody was looking.  He had bitten his brother in the arm once, and when his brother screamed about it, saying the boy had bitten him, he had lied.  He said that he had bitten his brother but it was an accident. 

It was no accident.  Worse than the sin was the fact that his parents didn’t believe it was an accident anyway, so it was a completely pointless lie.

The boy still believed in God, but he didn't trust God anymore.  It was terrifying for the boy.  Fifty years later, the boy thought, "You know - maybe don't try to scare kids into behaving with the threat of eternal damnation."

But what does the boy know?