Wood, being a combustible, can be problematic to handle. Gloves are recommended. Wood bites and slivers are its stinger. Sometimes it is simple and painless to remove; other times it is a painful challenge. One wonders if there is some culture on the planet that at one time, had a myth about wood and bees being related because they share this attribute.
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I was waiting for a grinder and the local news was on. One of the ads was for a junk removal service. It began with some "authoritative medical" quote that too much clutter impacts on person's mental health and well-being. Then it swung into the pitch that this company is here to help.
Hmmm. My cynical antenna immediately began to quiver as this seemed to be yet another example of our culture's crazy monetization of suffering. And the pitch that these nice people are providing a FUCKING MENTAL HEALTH service for (cough) a fee. WTF!!
The next moment, I flipped the pitch: so, if you DON'T use this service, then you are responsible for your own suffering. And let's take this a step further: you're a victim of toxic capitalism that constantly, every damn moment you are online or watching something or out and about: BUY SOMETHING! NEED IT, DON'T NEED IT, BUY! BUY! BUY! YOU'LL FEEL BETTER!
We're here to help. Operators are standing by.
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The other day as I was out and about and witnessed some public rudeness, an old Slovak word that my parents used came to mind: Honjak (hon-yuk)
From the urban dictionary:
"A low-class person who values neither social graces nor kindness. From
the Ukrainian word гоняк, Slovak "honjak", and Bavarian German
"Honjak", all of which originally meant "bloodthirsty pursuer" as a
deprecative of the word for "Hun". The word is a relic of the Hunnish invasions of Central Europe."
Or a rude asshole. Here's a classic: My Father died and I organized a memorial service/luncheon at the Catholic Church his father helped build in the tiny village near Grandfather's farm about 40 miles North of here. I'm doing a meet and greet in the Narthex, the gathering space outside of the church proper. I'm approached by a middle-aged man I barely recognize who proceeds to bust my chops for my lack of appearances at family functions. I later figure out he is not blood relative, he's married to a first cousin. WTF pal, you're doing this at my father's memorial? That's a Honjak.
This kind of behavior is commonplace up there in these small towns. It used to infuriate my mother because she generally endeavoured to be polite even in the face of rudeness. And to do this at a funeral, where Honjaks often behaved poorly figuring they could get away with it. Yet another reason why we lived in the Lansing area and not there.
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We have the Sirius XM 50s/60s channel on our car radio. I've noticed a genre of songs regarding women, clearly indicative of how that culture viewed them. On one hand, lot's of "Angel" songs although some are about guys (Johnny Angel). Good girls. No sex before marriage. On the other, many, many songs, generally sung by males, about girls achieving the age of 16, therefore legally able to have sex in most states. (hello Chuck Berry!) This genre pretty much vanished or was transformed during the 60's cultural revolution although, sadly, the perception of woman has not.
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