Mar 242011
 

While vis­it­ing a friend in Jack­sonville, Florida, I wan­dered into a small book­store where the owner still used on old-fashioned cash reg­is­ter that only had keys for a penny, a nickel, and a quar­ter, and a large slot machine han­dle. He demon­strated how he rang up a sale, which was a a labo­ri­ous process that resem­bled Wi fit­ness more than a mon­e­tary calculation.

On my drive back to Atlanta, it dawned on me that I hadn’t seen a “¢” key for ages. In fact, the last time I remem­bered a “¢” key being present on a key­board was in my col­lege typ­ing class. I real­ized it didn’t bode well for “¢” key since type­writ­ers aren’t often found in the mod­ern busi­ness. When I worked for an insur­ance com­pany many years ago, we once required a type­writer to com­plete a spe­cial form. We combed all 18 floors to track down an old Smith Corona, then stared at it, as we tried to fig­ure out how to turn it on.

I sup­pose it doesn’t help that every­thing costs more these days. After all, what can you buy for a penny, any­more? Just the other day, I offered a friend’s lit­tle girl a penny for her thoughts. She informed me that due to infla­tion, her thoughts now went for a min­i­mum of a nickel.

A few months ago, I con­fused one of the younger book­sellers at the book­store by writ­ing “3¢ over” on the cash drawer log. “What does this mean?” she asked, point­ing at the “¢” sign.

It’s a cent sym­bol,” I said.

She blinked at me.

You know, if the amount is less than one dollar.”

Why don’t you just write ‘$0.03′?”

Because it requires less strokes of the pen to write ‘3¢,” I said. “Besides, I like the cent sym­bol.” She stared at me, her face blank. “It’s retro.”

Ah …” She nod­ded her head in under­stand­ing, and then adopted the sym­bol herself.

So, I did some research to find out what sym­bol took the place of the “¢” sym­bol on the com­puter key­board. As it turns out, it’s the “^” or caret, which is Latin for “it lacks” and is used in proof­read­ing to indi­cate miss­ing punc­tu­a­tion. I can’t recall ever using the caret for any­thing, except draw­ing draw­ing a Christ­mas tree onscreen a num­ber of years back. Is the caret really more impor­tant than the cent symbol?

I dis­cussed this with Biodiesel Ed at the local farm­ers mar­ket. He, of course, blamed it on con­ser­v­a­tive politi­cians. “They’re being wined and dined by the pow­er­ful and clan­des­tine proof­read­ing indus­try.” Ed leaned in close. “Their lob­by­ist has no shame.”

I stepped back and fanned the air. “What’s smell?”

I’m recy­cling my urine into drink­ing water. I’ve almost per­fected the process. Would you like some?”

Declin­ing his offer, I stopped by the State Capi­tol to dis­cuss this with one of my legislators.

Is it true that you’re being bought off by the proof­read­ing indus­try to replace the cent sym­bol on the key­board with the caret?” I asked.

The leg­is­la­tor chuck­led and leaned for­ward on his desk, steepling his fin­gers together, then said, “There’s no such thing as global warming.”

Um, I didn’t ask about global warming.”

He blinked, then smiled. “Repeat after me, there’s no such thing as a global warming.”

I couldn’t decide if he was hid­ing the truth, or try­ing to avoid admit­ting that he didn’t know what a caret is. I thanked him for his time and left.

I nor­mally don’t pay atten­tion to con­spir­acy the­o­ries, espe­cially from peo­ple who recy­cle their own body waste, but I must admit that Biodiesel Ed’s sug­ges­tion is seem­ing less and less far fetched.

Great power comes with the abil­ity to tell peo­ple to insert punc­tu­a­tion any­where proof­read­ers deem to place a caret. The ques­tion is, will they use that power wisely?

Mar 102011
 

Mormon Missionaires with White Dress Shirts & Bicycles Until recently, I mis­tak­enly believed that the pur­pose of Mor­mon mis­sion­ar­ies was to con­vert oth­ers to the beliefs of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, but in fact their plan for world dom­i­na­tion has very lit­tle to do with pros­e­ly­ti­za­tion.

I recently met a man at a cof­fee shop who goes by the name of Prophet Jim.  For the price of a bot­tle of Mad Dog (which he swore he wouldn’t buy, it was sim­ply to pay the fees at the shel­ter and gas money and hot dog, if he hap­pened to be lucky enough to pass a QT).  “You see, the LSD Church is actu­ally run by Hokipoki, Inc.,” Prophet Jim said, pro­ject­ing a healthy amount of spit­tle in my gen­eral direc­tion.  “It’s a sin­is­ter com­pany that has made mil­lions man­u­fac­tur­ing two items:  white dress shirts and bicycles.”

Prophet Jim picked a few lice from his beard and nib­bled on them before he began again.  The CEO of the com­pany is Madame Bueno Kitty, a for­mer trained assas­sin who sports an eye patch and an alu­minum leg/flask that she keeps filled with a com­bi­na­tion of saki & Red Bull.”  Jim made a point of shiv­er­ing, then peek­ing up at me to see if I was shiv­er­ing, too.  I was not, but intrigued by his story.

Madame Bueno Kitty encour­ages young Mor­mon men to set out on the best future two years of their lives to con­vert more people–especially men–to Mor­monism, so she can sell more white dress shirts and bicy­cles.” Jim glanced over his shoul­der and leaned for­ward.  “You see, she has this thing for IBM repair­men, and she gives every new mis­sion­ary a pocket pro­tec­tor when she sends them off.”

Eww,” I said.

You’re absolutely right; she is a female sheep.”

Um, that’s not what I meant–”

If you go on YouTube, search for Hoki Poki Japan­ese com­mer­cials, and you’ll see what a dia­bol­i­cal genius she is.”

Mind con­trol?” I asked.

No! She hired the Osmonds for a suc­cess­ful ad cam­paign in Japan. Why didn’t I think of show­ing Donny giv­ing Marie a pump up a hill in San Fran­cisco on his Hoki Poki bicy­cle.  Genius!”

Do you mean like how the French think Jerry Lewis is a com­edy genius?”

Prophet Jim grabbed me by the col­lar of my shirt and brought my face close to his.  “This ain’t no laugh­ing mat­ter, son!  Madame Bueno Kitty is now sell­ing beef­cake cal­en­dars of Mor­mon boys cavort­ing around in their Tem­ple gar­ments, doing laun­dry, exer­cis­ing, study­ing their scrip­ture, and call­ing their mamas on Mother’s Day.”

So, she’s sex­u­al­iz­ing these young men and fetishiz­ing their undergarments …”

Well, yeah, but there ain’t noth­ing wrong with that.”  Jim fin­ished off my scone, which I didn’t really need, any­way.  “She’s going to make a but­t­load of money sell­ing those funny draw­ers, too.”

That’s an out­rage!” I shouted, as I slammed my fist on the table.

Well, I’d love to do some­thing about it, but the liquor store is about to close, and I … um … wanna go get a sand­wich there.”

The liquor store serves sandwiches?”

Yeah, but only to home­less people.”

Oh.”

If your not busy tomor­row, come back and I’ll tell you how Madame Bueno Kitty plans to put those kind Tibetan monks that man­u­fac­ture these sporty hemp G-strings out of business.”

Hemp G-strings?” I asked.

Yeah, I’m wear­ing a pair now.”  He cupped his mouth and whis­pered, “They really let the boys breath, if you know what I mean.”

I nod­ded.  “Yes, I see …”  How­ever,  I had no idea what he was talk­ing about.  Still, I know where I’ll be tomorrow.