Mini-Rants for April Fools

{{{{{{{ @JohnT }}}}}}

I’m so sorry @JohnT. That’s a hell of a day.

Dude. That sucks.

(who got Luna?)

Oh, I got Luna. The divorce was finalized by the judge on Christmas Eve, 2019. She stayed at the house by mutual agreement while Sophia finished high school
… and then never left. She was paying rent so there was a financial incentive, but with the pandemic ending and dating sites picking up, I’ve had enough and had to evict the mother of my daughter in order to fully restart my life.

Will say, this was not how Laura planned on things ending. Or myself, to be honest.

Well, that’s the main thing I needed to hear! :slight_smile: :dog:

But you have my sympathies for an otherwise really shitty day! Things can only get better from here. And Luna loves you unconditionally!

On a positive note, I can put ‘I lost a wife and a girlfriend on the same morning’ on my list of accomplishments.

… but then, lol, upon re-reading the above I bet that’s more common than I’m giving credit for. :stuck_out_tongue_winking_eye:

I was totally going to comment on that, but didn’t wanna hit you when you were down. Cheers, dude.

Fuckin’ hell, @JohnT . Keep going.

BBC, I I get that Prince Philip has died. That’s why I’m watching your channel. I don’t need that banner telling me that he’s died taking up the bottom third of the screen. I want to see the name of the person who’s talking about him, and what they do, and other relevant info. Other than that, carry on.

And keep calm?

You’re a helluva raconteur, so I hope it works really positively and winds up fuelling some amusing-to-read stories out of it.

Listen, local tractor parts store, you do not need to ‘put me in your system’ to sell me mower blades. Or let me rephrase–I am not buying blades from you if I have to give you contact info.

I try to shop local, but your service already sucked and I’m certainly not giving you a way to contact me at your convenience.

Fuck your new corporate overlord’s policy. I’ll save myself money and buy online from the evil place who already has my contact info.

And I’ll continue to pay my shade-tree mechanic do the upkeep on my riding mower. Y’all were sending me way too much mail about maintenence and storage. I’ll be pleased if that stops.

Curious, was it Kubota? Because those mfers are on my ignore list. We own a Kubota lawn tractor. We’ve had them pick it up for service twice (it is too big for my utility trailer). Both times they reconnected safety switches that make the thing unusable, saying that they cannot work on a “dangerous” machine. Also, both times they returned the tractor saying it runs fine and they could not duplicate the problem. They were paid and left and the problem recurred the next day.

Thing is, my gf’s 130 pounds isn’t enough to work the seat safety switch and she refuses to bulk up. Also the transmission interlock is overly sensitive. Safe is fine, but if I cannot use the tool that sucks.

Found a local guy who enjoys working on Kubotas and is fine with us bypassing the interlocks so we can start and run the thing.

Will you be looking for eight when they pull that gate? (For those not conversant with 80s country music, that’s a reference to the George Strait song “Amarillo by Morning”. )

Also, I agree with Acierocolotl, I hope everything works out for you and you get some stories to share with us.

Awww! Thanks! And just for the compliment, here’s one for ya. And the weird thing is? I didn’t remember this until this past Tuesday night.

Laurel and Horror

Like I said, almost everything below except for some of the introductory information was completely forgotten by me for decades until it just came to fhe fore, a memory so vivid that I literally pulled my car over and texted my daughter this story, after I had verified the basic details with my sister. But, no, this really happened. May be a bit embellished… storyteller and all… but here goes:

4 years old, 5 maybe, going to preschool at Papoose Parlor, a Native-American themed prekindergarten done, I’m sure, with all the taste and concern of Native traditions 1972-era white-flight Atlanta could muster. I had mentioned this place in an earlier thread about a time I heard a song so lovely I cried, and… well… that story plus the events of this post indicate I was probably a pretty sensitive, if not odd, child. Shocking, I know.

So… 1971. 1972, somewhere around there, no later than May of 1973. And this was right before the golden age of reruns and syndication, so the big kid entertainment on Atlanta television of this era was black and white 1930s and 1940s shorts. Alfalfa and Our Gang are the most famous, but they also had Abbot and Costello and, my favorites, Laurel and Hardy.

Now, the child is the father to the man, and like the rest of my life would show, when I went after a fandom or an interest, I went at it hard. Screw the mysteries of creation, I want to know. So I peppered my family with questions about L&H, didn’t learn much, but I was impressed by one key fact…

Last day of school. Gonna say 1972 just because. Now, Papoose Parlor was the sort of place that was sought after by what I call the Striving Classes, the subset of middle-class people who are working very hard to become Upper Middle Class, or even… dare I say it… Upper Class. All white, all educated, all management level (still a big thing in 1972) or higher. And one of the Strivers was a person who, I am assuming, worked at Channel 11, WXIA… which was the station which showed Laurel and Hardy. And the Striver had the brilliant idea of getting a pair of L&H impersonators to do a L&H skit during the party thrown on last day of class. The kids would love it, the teachers would get a break, the Striver gets to preen, a good time will be had by all, what could possibly go wrong?

Party begins, things are normal, cake, kids are sent on the playground to burn energy before the show, everything is fine, smiles everywhere.

We go back inside, the teachers telling us about this wonderful surprise, we are just going to love it, just hyping this thing to death. And we sit down, on that tile-linoleum floor that I remember from school, someone turns the lights off, silencing the kids… and, finally, the last “hush” being said… out walks Laurel and Hardy.

And I just fucking freak out!

“BUT THEY’RE DEAD!”, I start screaming. “THEY CAN’T BE HERE, THEY’RE DEAD! THEY DIED YEARS AGO!” (I knew this because Dad said it and if Dad says it, then it’s just a Goddamned Fact.) I’m screaming, yelling at these poor guys who were probably going to get $25 for putting on some overalls and acting nothing like L&H, “YOU CAN’T BE HERE, YOU’RE DEAD! YOU!”… I scream, pointing at one of them… “YOU’RE DEAD! YOU CANNOT BE HERE, YOU…”, a teacher finally having the sense to hustle my four-year old buzz-killing ass out of there.

It was offensive. I loved these guys and here someone was, acting like them when I knew they were dead. How dare they do that to me and how dare they do that to Laurel and Hardy? It shocked me to my core that something like this could happen, and I was just truly and deeply offended.

I don’t know if they finished their show or not, I think I just sat in the lobby until it was time for the parents to come pick us up. Was one of them spoken to? I don’t know.

But the one thing I do know is this:

There was no such program the next year.

Hope you enjoyed.

:trophy: to @JohnT

Beautiful.

Ah, thank you John. (If I may call you that. That IS presumptuous of me.)

Lol, of course. You can even call me JT, I’ll understand who you mean.

A co-worker convinced me to buy a Deere and the equipment itself has been fine. But the local dealer is a shitshow, and I’ve avoided them for everything but parts since intial purchase. I bet our Kubota dealer is crap, too, even though my mechanic works there.