Something very wrong is happening here. It’s Spring, and it’s cold outside, which makes a long-sleeved shirt and a flannel Tie o’ the Day must-wear items. We are three weeks into May, and even in Utah, I should not have to get dressed as if it’s February. I take personal offense at the way the weather toys with me annually at this time o’ the year. Alas and forsooth! I shall wrap my flannel tie around me for warmth and try to forget how picked on by the cosmos I truly am. 🌬 ❄️ 😁
BTW This is a prime photo of my Spock ear, which has always been my sexiest feature.
Once upon a time, I forgot my neckwear one day. It made me dizzy to have a naked neck, but I was already on the road to Delta in my jalopy truck. Turn back? Nope. I had things to do. I pulled over to the side of the road on I-80 near Saltair to quickly draw Bow Tie o’ the Day on my neck. Have pen, will draw bow tie!
In yesterday’s second post, I rambled on about how important it is to have rubbed shoulders with at least a handful of super-good folks in your life—people of character and compassion and insight. People worth emulating. And when you get yourself in a predicament, and you’re not sure what your next move should be, you can call on them for help, in person or in your mind. You can ask yourself what you think that person would do in your situation. The key to this strategy working is you have to be careful who you choose to consult with.
On the other hand, this whole panel-of-experts-in-your-head tool can work in reverse too—and still for your benefit. In my wanderings, I’ve met some people who don’t have any sense at all anywhere in their DNA. I’ve also met hateful people whose sketchy advice I would never take. You know persons like this too. Their image of themselves is that they are above the laws and civility that the rest of us cherish. They see our generosity as weakness. They believe you and I exist in order to serve them. They are in it for themselves, and for no other. Their lives are a mess because they are a mess. In short, they’re @$$holes.
I’ll just call one of these malicious people I know “A” for the purpose of this example. A few years ago when Suzanne bought a car from her dad, we took the title to the DMV to register it. Suzanne was filling out the required information on the title, when she got to the little box where you’re supposed to put the amount you paid for the car. Of course, people often fudge on that. They write in a lesser amount, to save a little on taxes. She jokingly asked me what amount she should put? I jokingly asked her, “What Would ‘A’ Do? (WWAD).” Neither one of us wants to ever be like “A,” so the right answer was clear. We did the opposite of what the predatory “A” would have done. We have used “A” as an anti-guiding light many times. Our ethical compasses are intact, so we don’t really need to ask WWAD, but doing it is fun. In fact, Suzanne and I make a game of going against what “A” would do—in bigly situations and in small ones.
So you see, bad examples can teach you valuable lessons. Bad examples can keep you on the right track, out of disgust for their nefarious behavior. A bad example is a weapon you can utilize for doing good, if you know how to use it properly. In the wrong hands, the WWAD weapon can lead you so far off the radar, you’ll wake up one morning and realize you are now just another @$$hole among @$$holes.
So Suzanne wrote down the exact dollar-amount she’d paid her dad for the vehicle. It cost more to register the car than we could have made it cost, but it didn’t cost her any character points on her Permanent Record.
If you’re anything like me, over the years you have developed your own pantheon of go-to experts you can summon up in your own mind when you find yourself in a predicament, with a pocketful of questions. They are generally folks whose character you admire and try to emulate. Of course, there’s Jesus, and the What Would Jesus Do? (WWJD) question to help guide you. A lot of people use that one.
One of my staples is WWJJD—as in What Would Judge Judy Do? Judy is bigly on fairness. She’s also loud and funny. She knows what to do and say in every situation. If you’re as lucky in the mother department as I am, you also consider What Would Mom Do? (WWMD). My mom is what I consider to be Judge Judy Lite. She can size up a situation in two seconds and then tell a hilarious and relevant true story that gives you a clue about your best options for solving a problem.
It’s always good to follow-up any need for assistance with WWDD—as in What Would Dad Do? It was Dad’s spirit I called upon a couple of day’s ago. I was cooking, and I nearly decapitated the tip of my left index finger while opening a package of Omaha Steaks. Oh, how the blood did spurt! Suzanne almost called 911, and she told me I needed a stitch or three. I did not disagree with her about the stitches, but there’s a pandemic going on out there, which made me leary about heading off to a hospital for a measly stitch.
I reflected on Dad and his occasional wounds from mishaps he incurred in the course of his beekeeping and bricklaying. He was not a klutzy guy at all, but accidents happen. During my kidhood, I witnessed him care for a number of work-wounds to his appendages. I did not witness him go to the doctor for his wounds. He sucked it up, cleaned it up, wrapped it up, and healed himself. WWDD? If Dad had maimed his finger as badly as I vexed mine, he would have simply stayed home and fallen asleep reading his newspaper. I knew sculpting myself a bandage and bending a splint—before falling asleep while reading the paper—would be exactly what he would counsel me to do.
Bandage Tie o’ the Day has aided my finger-healing greatly. I’m always happy to have an excuse to wear this novelty neckwear specimen. A terrific feature of bandage Tie is its padding in its middle section, just like with a real Band-Aid. If you ever see me wearing this live-and-in-person, please feel free to touch Tie for yourself. I believe in sharing the groovy stuff o’ life, no matter how ridiculous.
Even though many events have been cancelled or postponed recently, we find ourselves in a year of unusual and/or extraordinary events. Some, we saw coming—like a presidential election. Some caught us by surprise—like a pandemic. As human beings, we want to know the truth about whatever goes on around us, and we want to know it NOW. We should want that. And that’s when the hullabaloo begins.
My bigly point is this: The most difficult time for ANYBODY to find the “truth” about a humongous historical event is when we are smack-dab in it. Why? Because it’s still going on. It ain’t finished yet. So I advise that we keep an eye out for slicksters who offer up the “truth” about all of it—the truth only they can see. I submit that the opposite of faith might not be doubt, my friends. The opposite of faith might just be certainty. If a slickster claims to be absolutely certain about any aspect of the pandemic, they most likely don’t know the answers they are peddling. They might have access to a fact or two, but facts alone often do not get us to a comprehensive Truth, with a capital T.
If you know me, you know I am not a blind follower. But at some point, we have to trust the people in charge—whether we want to or not. They know more about some things than we do. And besides, they’re all we’ve got. Want me to wear a mask? If there is one scintilla of a chance my mask-wearing will keep even one person from getting COVID-19, it will be my pleasure to wear it. Because I still remember my 7th grade science, I was wearing a mask and gloves before it was suggested. Conspiracy? Will this go down in history as The Great Face Mask Conspiracy That Destroyed The U.S. Economy? I kinda don’t think so. Want me to stay home? We could call this plot The Great Conspiracy To Force Us To Spend Time With Our Families And Clean Up The House. As part of that conspiracy, we blindly gave up our right to ignore the people who live with us. And who wants to live in a world where we don’t have the right to neglect our families?
As for the conspiracy theory that the pandemic has been constructed for the purpose of certain people making a ton o’ money, I offer this bit of wisdom I’ve accrued during my 56 years. The rich do not need a pandemic in order to be rich. The rich will always get richer, no matter the prevailing world conditions. (There are barely any exceptions to that, but the rarity of exceptions proves the rule.) And those who were born into poverty, will likely live in it until they die in it—no matter what the economy is doing, and no matter how hard they work to better themselves. Statistically, this is how it is. It does not make me cynical to say so. It does make me heartbroken to say so.
Until a chunk of time has passed, and until we have ALL the numbers and various statistical analyses, and research, and documents, and records, personal accounts from doctors and nurses and survivors, etc. about an event, we’re just guessing about the particulars. COVID-19 will ebb. Historians and scientists will research and write from a more informed perspective as they look at the information accrued during the pandemic. But the pandemic is so bigly, it will take years of work and research before we get anything close to a comprehensive narrative of exactly what is happening to us right now. We have to wait for the research to be done, before the history gets written. We’ll have to be patient. We should probably listen to those in charge of our predicament. We must do our own investigation and thinking, and use our own common sense. We will eventually find out what hit us, and how.
Until then, let’s fight to regain our rights to pass along deadly diseases to one another in public places, and to keep our own family members out of our houses!
Yes, I am wearing a dabbin’ Santa Claus shirt in May. It is short-sleeved, at least. I opened the closet door, and it’s the first shirt my hand touched. I just wasn’t in the mood to make any kind of bigly wardrobe decision at the moment. Black sheep Tie o’ the Day was a no-brainer after I saw the shirt. This look is a bit matchy for me, but the red-and-white has a major Delta Rabbit vibe to it which dandies it up properly. In honor of high school Seniors o’ the Pandemic everywhere, check out my rabbit-y class ring which I somehow haven’t managed to lose despite my traipsing to and fro across the land, lo these many decades. I am not a robot. I am a Rabbit.
As I’m continuing my reorganization of The Tie Room—including completing an extensive neckwear Census 2020—it occurs to me to introduce you to my “emergency” Tie/Bow Tie o’ the Day. I refer to them as my “in case” neckwear. I made them by simply covering two brave volunteers in reflective tape. These two live together in their own speshul briefcase, separated from any other neckwear hooligans. They are my frontline Tie/Bow Tie , for when I am going to be in dangerous situations and must be visible. So far, dangerous situations have amounted to the few times when I’ve been walking or biking in the dark. Neither of those things ordinarily happen. But just in case, these two stand ever-ready in their briefcase. Get it? 😜
FYI I feel like James Bond when I carry the tiny, ready-for-perilous-emergency briefcase.
The patriotic Ties/Bow Ties o’ the Day got together this afternoon to give a good ol’ salute to those on the front lines of healthcare, law enforcement, and our food supply—and to other essential workers. A specific shout-out to educators and students who are doing their best to figure out how to do something that hasn’t been done before. Kudos to the technology that allows the nation to keep teaching and learning, without school buildings being open to students. Appreciation, as well, to the rest of us who are doing our best to find toilet paper and follow the sometimes-confusing, recommended guidelines for defeating this pandemic. It is my firm opinion that as masked, social-distancing, trying-to-stay-at-home ‘Mericans, we are all essential workers. As always, if your actions are for the benefit of your fellow beings, you can’t go wrong.
The Tie Room 2020 Census continues. Here again is my one and only blow-up Tie o’ the Day. It was given to me by my bro-in-law, Nuk, my oldest sister’s hubby. If you’re whitewater rafting and you and your tie fall out of your raft, Tie will stay afloat so somebody can find it and your body that it’s attached to. Tie can also act as a pillow for you when you’re bored at the office or in church, and you just need to close your eyes for a minute. Tie stands alone in its Census description category.
I must admit that The Tie Room Census has been a rather welcome and important distraction from the continuing, sometimes boring, drama of COVID-19. The Census gives me a good reason to do some bigly needed re-vamping of The Tie Room. My collection needs both a more streamlined organization, and a more jumpy-outy-but-presentable way of being exhibited to visitors. I have so massive a neckwear collection that sometimes I can’t find the precise piece of neckwear I’m searching for. Also, there are folks who visit us who would like to gawk at the amazing adventure that is The Tie Room. Maybe I’ll sell tickets. You’ll be invited, of course.
My Census abacus is smokin’! I haven’t even begun to tally up the bow ties yet, but the actual necktie count is complete. Excluding holiday neckties, the total necktie count as of today stands at 904. Even screaming Tie o’ the Day is aghast at the bigly number! With guesstimates from y’all as low as 765 and as high as 1589, our prizewinner is my former Delta neighbor, Katie Poulsen, who offered an incredible, unbelievable, shockingly close guess of 901. I would think Katie must have snuck into my house and counted my ties herself, except we don’t reside in the same zip code anymore. Message me your address, Katie, and in a couple of days the Pooping Dogs Puzzle will show up on your doorstep.
As always, speshul thanks go to Suzanne, who bravely tolerated said puzzle enough to assemble it with me. However, she is glad it’s leaving our abode to live with other people who like odd things. I, on the other hand, will miss the puzzle’s ewwy silliness. Rest assured, Katie, the puzzle is not a scratch-n-sniff.
