North Bound

Just thought I'd drop in and make a quick post, trying to keep up my "post a month" status you know. Early tomorrow morning I'm bound for the great white north...Michigan. Now, normally visiting Michigan in the spring would be nice. A decent 60 degrees. Weather forcast for my stay? 30-50 degrees at best, windy, cloudy, and a chance of rain/snow. Cold weather and I don't get along well, I live in Texas, if it gets down to 50 we're starting a fire. So, my suitcase looks like I'm going on an Antarctic voyage (still haven't decided whether I'm taking the Thermal Underwear).

Now, for those of you who know me, you know that I cannot post without stating an opinion about something. The target of my disdain this evening...telemarketers. I know they need a job, probably have families and bills and blah blah blah. But honestly, do I need someone to call me every night to fill me in on the benefits of satellite television? I'm sure it's great. Clear picture, 150 sports channels and all the Home Shopping Network your checkbook can stand, but crap, if I've turned you down fifteen days in a row, what makes you think I'm going to give in now? If I was giving in, I'd have done it thirteen days ago. Whats worse is that they're calling me with a recording now. It's one thing to be mentally assailed by a live human being, you get the tactile pleasure of hanging up on someone, thinking you ruined their evening in the same way they did yours. But a machine, it has no feelings, it just dials the next poor chump. I only hope that those recordings don't record what I'm saying to them. I'm pretty sure if those tapes got out it would ruin my chances at running for Governor of Texas. Along the same lines, I've started accrueing an unusual amount of junk mail. Piles of it. Credit cards, magazines, SATELLITE TV ads, people asking for donations, and the list goes on and on. I have enough credit cards, ask my bank if you don't believe me. I don't subscribe to magazines anymore, because for every fifty pages I pay for, forty-five of them are ads. I wouldn't mind having satellite TV, but if I gave in now I could never look at myself in the mirror again. And I do donate money, every two weeks, lots of it. A large portion of my salary goes to Joe Dontwannajob so that he can buy the good beer and afford a new hood for his '83 Firebird. If all that wasn't enough, I get even more crap in my email. Though these ads are a bit saltier, and a bit insulting. I mean, one male enhancement pill ad I can handle, but sixty a day? Makes me think someones been talking...and I'll find you. I was sure that the worst was over though. These foul temptresses of the advertising world had infiltrated every medium in my life...except one. My cell phone had remained pure, until yesterday. I picked up the phone and SatPro TV service began whispering sweet nothings in my ear. I sat there, nonplussed, and simply said "Ah SatPro recording, we meet again."