Rediscovered From the Past

I was formerly a communications technician for a regional telecommunications company. Ever-changing regulations, tech and corporate speak–revenge came in the form of “new” repair accounting codes. Found these while cleaning out the attic.
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CODES RELATED TO PHONE 1

9991X———————–Phone 1—Lost Tickets

USE THIS CODE WHEN MARS IS IN RETROGRADE. PLANETARY ALIGNMENT IS CONTRAINDICATED. THIS CODE WILL BE FORTHCOMING FROM GUI AND PREVIOUS TO THE ROLLOUT OF CLAPTRAP. ORDER AN EXTRACTOR LOCALLY FROM SUPPLY CHANNELS.

9992X———————–Phone 1—“Stale” Tickets

DIAGNOSTIC TICKETS WHICH HAVE GONE THROUGH PUTREFACTION FROM IMPROPER DIAGNOSTICATION. CLOSE OUT ATTEMPTS RESULT IN A FLASHING “TILT” DISPLAY ON THE HANDHELD. CAUTION MUST BE EXERCISED TO PREVENT INFESTATION OF INFINITESIMAL ELECTRONIC CYBER MITES.

6666X———————–Phone 1—Unnecessary Tickets

USED ONLY WHEN FIELD PERSONNEL EXPERIENCE BEFUDDLEMENT AND CONSTERNATION FROM PREVIOUSLY HELD ASSUMPTIONS, THAT IN THE UNIVERSAL ORDER, PHONE 1 PROBLEMS HAVE A RELEVANCY THAT IS NO LONGER WEIGHTED AND MAY BE SOMEWHAT AMORPHOUS. INQUIRIES SHOULD BE REFERRED TO THE DEPT. OF OBSCURITY AND OBLIQUENESS, HEREAFTER DESIGNATED AS DOODOO.



Neighborhood 12 Days Of Christmas

One free 2019 calendar
from a local merchant
Two telephone directories
that nobody wanted
Three hungry chickadees
Four front yard holes
from the utility company
where no holes used to be
Five overflowing trash bins
Six strings of colorful lights
on an artificial tree with
genuine, life-like pine boughs
Seven, white-tailed deer
emerged from the woods
Eight deflated snowmen
Arose magically at dusk
Nine feral cats yowled
somewhere in the night
Ten neighbors scowled
taxes were way too high
Eleven empty beer cans
gleamed from the roadside
Twelve discarded cardboard boxes
rain-soaked by curbside

 

Rolling, Rolling, Rolling (Dung Beetle Blues)

There were lots of cattle on the farm where I grew up.  And, in the pasture were lots of cow patties.  My brothers, sister, and myself had plenty of dung beetles to watch for entertainment.  There weren’t any smart phones–or electronic devices to entertain us in those days.  A post from two years ago.

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Rolling, rolling, rolling

Keep them dung balls rolling

Dung balls

Keep on growing

They may be

Full to overflowing

Roll, roll, roll ’em

You know

You can’t

Control them

Stay strong

Roll, roll, roll, them

Dung balls

All day long

Head ’em up

Move ’em out

Knowing there are

Larvae inside

Daylight Savings Time (Time Piracy)

Once again, clock hands will be turned back one hour this Saturday night.  The insanity of it expressed in a slightly revised post from 2015.  My sentiments haven’t changed.    

Aarrrgh!  Tonight, an hour’s sleep pirated away in the name of DST–it happens every spring.  I don’t like it, but will knuckle under like everybody else.  Why not have a tribute to honor the lost hour; or, at the very least, a poem to honor the occasion.

Everybody is welcome to join in, with silly dance moves and melodies.  I was thinking about “Safety Dance” by Men Without Hats, to get the party started.  A drunken leprechaun dance might also work.  If you know any drunken leprechauns–they’re invited.


“The DST Dance”

It used to be

It’s not anymore

It’s not there

Who cares?

One single hour

That became a bore

Ignored after midnight

Nobody cares


You can dance, you can dance

With a patch over your eye

You can dance, you can dance

Even if you don’t know why

You can dance, you can dance

Dance like you’re out of your mind

You can dance, you can dance

Leave that hour far behind