Pizza Hut $10 Deal Small Print

There must be some small print on the Pizza Hut TV ad that I didn't notice.

I thought I heard them unambiguously say words to the effect of Any pizza, any crust, any toppings, $10. No nothing about any kind of exclusions.

But like I say, there could've been some small print to tamp down the deal so you couldn't go hog wild. I know when I first heard it on TV, I was saying, What if a guy ordered 100 toppings? Because it definitely sounded unambiguously like there were no limits.

Well, what something sounds like on TV (a $10 pizza, any pizza, any crust, any toppings) ended up being a $12 pizza and would've been a $14 pizza except we canceled the last $2 topping.

Because somewhere in the small print, which we didn't see, must be a clause that says it's only good for three toppings. Because that's what the phone person at Pizza Hut said, After that it's $2 per topping.

I really can see why they wouldn't want it to be unlimited. But what I can't see is how they can make an ad like that that makes it sound so unambiguous. Then they spring it on you when you call or when you show up.

I've never understood why a big corporate place, Pizza Hut or anyone, wants to make their customers mad by seeming to over promise, then when it comes time to deliver, it's just a disappointment. So I'm sitting there saying, No more "$10" pizzas!

Conductor Bert Haid -- Random News

This news is from The Fort Wayne Journal-Gazette, Fort Wayne, IN, Jan. 24, 1913, p. 15, in a column called "Wawaka News":

Conductor Bert Haid, who has been off duty several weeks on account of illness, resumed his run on the plug this morning.

What else happened in the life of Bert Haid that made the news?

1913 -- G.C. Griffith of Toledo is relief conductor for Bert Haid, while the latter is at Grand Rapids on a visit. (Fort Wayne Journal-Gazette, July 25, 1913, p. 6).

1914 -- Bert Haid is visiting friends in Wawaka. (Fort Wayne News, April 29, 1914, p. 4).

1917 -- (Bert is a conductor with the New York Central lines.) Two men stole some clothes from him. One of the men, Joseph Rogers, later in custody, tried to escape, but after a ten-minute tussle was overpowered, double handcuffed and taken to jail. (Fort Wayne Journal-Gazette, March 13, 1917, p. 3).

Joseph Rogers, who stole Bert Haid's clothes, was given a sentence to the reformatory at Jeffersonville this afternoon by Judge Wrigley. (Fort Wayne Journal-Gazette, March 29, 1917, p. 8).

Bert has been compelled to be off duty several days on account of illness, but is now up and about again. (Fort Wayne Journal-Gazette, April 17, 1917, p. 2).

Mrs. Bert Haid was the guest of Ligonier relatives today. (Fort Wayne Journal-Gazette, Dec. 7, 1917, p. 27).

1919 -- Bert Haid was among that big crowd at Toledo yesterday. (Fort Wayne Journal-Gazette, July 5, 1919, p. 2).

What big crowd? In Toledo, Ohio, July 4, Jack Dempsey defeated Jess Willard in three rounds to become the world's champion heavyweight boxer. It was a very hot Fourth of July, with the thermometer at 110 degrees. How big was the crowd at Toledo? There was a Methodist conference in Columbus, at which officials estimated there were more than 110,000 persons. This was said to nearly triple the number who witnessed the Willard-Dempsey fight at Toledo. (Fort Wayne Journal-Gazette, July 5, 1919, p. 1).

John Haid celebrated his eighty-sixth birthday last Friday at the home of his niece, Mrs. Beanda Hall, at Chicago. A roasted pig was served and was thoroughly enjoyed by all. Among the guests were Mrs. and Mrs. Lou Haid, of Wawaka; Mr. and Mrs. Bert Haid, of Kendallville, and Mr. and Mrs. H.G. Williams and son, Clarence, and wife, of Toledo. (Fort Wayne News and Sentinel, Dec. 16, 1919, p. 27).

Mrs. Bert Haid is the guest of friends at Elkhart. (Fort Wayne News and Sentinel, Dec. 22, 1919, p. 33).

These items were found at newspaperarchive.com. It's not necessarily exhaustive, since I only searched for "Bert Haid." But the top entry (pictured above, from Jan. 24, 1913) didn't show up on the search. The print is fairly broken up. So it's likely that there's other Bert Haid news out there.

The Republicans And Massa

It's not just on the issue of Congressman Eric Massa, former Congressman, that the Republicans are troublemakers, it's every issue. But this is their latest thing, probing for some damaging information about Nancy Pelosi over this idiot Massa's troubles.

Of course the Republicans don't care anything about it per se, but only how they can gum up things for the Democrats. Meaning it's part and parcel of their entire legislative strategy, which is to stir up trouble ... constant and non-stop.

What does this make the Republicans? They're really nothing but vandals. Civic vandalism, that's what the Republicans engage in. No wonder we have so many troubles in this country.

Honk If You've Been Groped By Eric Massa

Honestly, I can't believe people go around groping one another. Isn't there a first date rule on stuff like this, dining, dancing, flowers, groping?

I don't want to say too much about myself, but I never liked the idea of showering with others in P.E. Speaking for myself, the chances of anything happening there were zero or less. But I'm not a Congressman, I don't have that immediate thought that I'm God's gift to other nude people.

It's my opinion that if you're going to be in Congress, you really have to watch your reputation. The amount of stuff that these guys get away with before they get caught boggles the mind.

A Billion Year Contract?

I just heard on MSNBC that Scientologists sign a billion year contract that they'll be loyal, faithful, and true to their organization. And if they should try to finagle out of it -- say with most of the billion years left -- then they owe some big time money for "counseling." The case they told about on the news owed $40,000 for "counseling."

First, anyone who would consider joining such a lunatic religion probably needs counseling, but counseling from outside that particular organization. That's insane.

I was just looking online to see if there's any other links to this billion year contract topic. And there's plenty. So I guess I'm the last one to hear about it. Plus you can find lots of other information about this organization, including enough to make you want to get a really good crucifix to hold up if they ever come around! Or some wolf bane for the doorpost.

If you're really looking for a religion, try one of the normal ones.

Bush Wouldn't Have Been So Bad

It's an odd thing to say, since George W. Bush perpetually disgusted me, but he wouldn't have been so bad if wasn't able to ramrod things through Congress. If he would've just sat lifeless in the White House and been thwarted at every turn, I could've endured him.

Finally we get someone elected that I do like, and what do we get? Someone who probably won't be able to get a Mother's Day proclamation through Congress and apparently doesn't do much else.

Why are the really bad guys so effective at pushing their agenda?

Every Six Months

I should've grabbed a scratch pad. By the time you get to the computer, your ideas are withering or congealing. They don't stay fresh more than a minute.

Which is to the point, my constant thing, the passing of time and its relation to us. You think that everything's the same, until you see pictures of the past and realize what a foreign world you were living in at the time and didn't know it. At the time its utter familiarity meant it was normal, and the average person didn't want to go around snapping pictures of everything. It was normal.

It wouldn't be normal for someone to be going around now doing that. He might say the point is to show them all in 40 years what the differences are. Except most of them are going to be dead anyway. His efforts will serve the people at the time, who will glance at the pictures and some of them will recall the way it was. Which is the way it is right now.

So it's not staying the same, but incrementally at least changing all the time. Like how a room gets messed up. A few books that don't make it to the shelf. A stack of papers that gets tipped over one day. Some newspapers set askew. Some pieces of crumpled paper that missed the waste can. Next thing you know you're living in squalor. But it's onward and upward for the town, downtown, the suburbs, other buildings. With funerals everyday for the previous generation.

I've got a couple magazines on the shelf that I bought, probably six months ago. I haven't done anything with them except keep them in good condition. At the time I had a real collector's instinct about these things. Now I'm looking at them with disbelief that I succumbed to that at the time. But no one tried to talk me out of it. The intention was to get a couple plastic bags to put them in, then to put them in a box.

The key thing about them today is that it's surely been six months. Meaning a whole half a year has already passed away right under my nose. Whatever I'm inexorably going toward in life, I'm inexorably that much closer. Sleep a little, eat a little, go out to eat, worry, and all the rest. It all adds up.

Someday When I'm In The Graveyard

Filling out the census form yesterday reminded me that I am alive. Because they wanted to know about Person Number 1 and Person Number 2 and how old we are. But if we were dead, you're excluded. So I immediately felt my pulse and knew the government cares about me because I'm alive.

I keep thinking about the results of the census being held confidential by the government for 72 years. So by the time 72 passes and all is revealed and I'm able to see what my name was again, I'll be in the graveyard. Just there, a forgotten box of ashes, suffering through winter cold and summer heat, although obviously suffering might be the wrong word for it.

If my family does what I want, they'll be able to harvest any body parts that still work properly. Then whatever leftovers there are, those they'll try by fire. Then when the fire has reduced them to ash -- no more legs, no more arms, no more privates, no more belly, etc. -- I'll fit in one of those tiny little boxes and that'll be it. I was small when I was born, so it's only fitting that I'll fit in a small box someday.

It'd be nice to know more about it. Do they cremate you nude or fully dressed? Maybe cremation has its own Wikipedia page. I'll look. ... Here it is, with me quoting just part of it.

The box containing the body is placed in the retort and incinerated at a temperature of 760° to 1150°C (1400° to 2100°F). During the cremation process, a large part of the body (especially the organs) and other soft tissue are vaporized and oxidized because of the heat, and the gases are discharged through the exhaust system. The process usually takes 90 minutes to two hours, with longer times associated with larger bodies, and older furnaces.

90 minutes to two hours, with longer times associated with larger bodies, and older furnaces ... I'm not that big a guy, and I hope I don't get an older furnace. I've had old cars, old houses, old hand-me-down clothes all my life. Give me one thing that's new. That's all I want, a new furnace.

I ought to start a blog about my death. That'd be a cool niche blog, just a guy ruminating about his death, perhaps 20-40 years in advance. Then they make a big printout of it and it's there at my funeral, looking like a big Congressional bill. The preacher says it's 1,300 pages of dense print, and we're not leaving till we read every word, or something.

Anyway, someday when I'm in the graveyard -- the silent city -- the government won't care about me. Only my family, till they all keel over, one after the other. Then, after all the heirs are totally gone, it'll just be me and the worms.

The Poo Of The City To Be Divided

When you search for articles at newspaperarchive.com they return a bunch of results with little snippets of various articles on the newspaper page.

Because they were scanning mostly bad looking newspaper copies, sometimes it's just gibberish. But sometimes they're pretty good, but since the samples are automatically truncated, they come out sounding funny. Like this one:

"The poo of the city to be divided among the several churches." Speaking for the churches, we don't want the poo of the city, thank you very much!

But the actual article tells the true story:

"A collection was taken up for the poor of the city, to be divided among the several churches represented at the meeting."

Jimi Hendrix "Valleys Of Neptune" Released Early?

I was at Walmart and saw the new Jimi Hendrix CD today, March 5.

I was saying to my wife, "I thought this was supposed to come out on March 9." But there it was on the shelf, several of them. So I figured it must have come out on March 2.

I bought one and came home to see when the release date was supposed to be, since I could've sworn it was March 9. And indeed, that's what the internet sites all say.

Meaning that I, apparently, for once in my life, got something early. What a big coup, huh? It probably sounds the same this week as it would next week.

What I was actually more concerned with was that I thought some of them were going to be numbered, like the CD single was, but these didn't appear to have any number. Still, who cares? The numbers never do me any good anyway.

I'm listening to it on my little computer speakers. Sounds fine.

In case you don't know, Jimi Hendrix was a well known rock guitarist from some years back. Initially he had quite a bit of success, then died and refused to release his last album for another 40 years. In eternity, it seems, he's got all the time in the world.

Elvis' Last Days

I have a book called "Elvis Up Close," subtitled, "In the words of those who knew him best." It always seems to be setting around and I pick it up once in a while.

Tonight I was sitting there, kind of depressed (about other things), and started looking through some of it. I went to the end, to the part where Elvis' friends had to deal with his death.

They had that weird sense of disbelief in many cases. I remember hearing it, sitting in my chair in the front of the TV, and feeling like crap that Elvis was dead. Which has been a long time ago.

He was only 42, and, as we were reminded earlier this year, would've been 75 in January. But he was looking terrible at the time and seemed to have other issues, including a bunch of medicine around.

It's tough to believe Elvis was so young and that had to happen. It's tough to think of Elvis being younger than me. I probably shouldn't have reminded myself he's dead.

The Mysteries And Anxieties Of A Q-Tip Container

The generic kind aren't called Q-Tips, since that, like Band-Aids, is a trademarked name for something everyone knows. They're called cotton swabs.

Our box always gets buried under some stuff in the bathroom, with the flap stuck down and no one knows what it looks like or what its exact circumstances are. Even though it's buried, it's still halfway peeking out so you know right where it is. I know I never see it clearly.

So I'm reaching for it, whether day or night, light or dark, and getting some swabs. Sometimes the flap's in the way but it doesn't usually matter. It's those rare times when it does matter that really bug me. Then you have to work the flap up and let some swabs escape its block. Then we're back to normal, the flag being a nuisance but not preventing the dispensing of swabs.

It's one of the few things that I'm continually reaching for when you can't see it. There might be a mousetrap in there and that's when I'd discover it.

I have a lot of anxiety about getting them out in time, so that I'm not blocked too many seconds.

The Automatic Shower Cleaner

On paper the automatic shower cleaner has to be a good idea. You have it hanging there, you push the button, it beeps to give you time to close the door, then it sprays, and, theoretically, it's cleaning the shower. It probably is. But I don't know, maybe a whole army of mildew eating bacteria couldn't get my shower clean.

I haven't noticed any difference in three or four days.

The only difference I've noticed is the inconvenience to me personally having the automatic shower cleaner hanging on the shower head. Since I'm used to leaning my head back to wash out shampoo and to rinse my face. But now when I do my familiar backwards motion, bang, my head hits this big automatic machine hanging there. Not good.

But what can I say? Honey, your shower cleaning thing sucks? Honey, I threw away the shower cleaner? You can't do that. You can just grin and bear it until it becomes clear that it's not making any difference. Like when we're on the third or fourth refill.

Anyway, how hard would it've been to just buy some spritz on stuff, and spritz it on the mildew directly, and let it eat its way free of food? We really don't need it up there whirling around in a widely dispersed area when the problem is more localized.

But hey, that's just me!

Hindsight

I have a bunch of stuff going on. It's stressful.

Someday I will know everything by hindsight. I'm looking forward to that day. Then I will be able to look back and see what happened. Then I will know exactly how everything worked out.

One thing in my favor, I've always been OK in the past. So in the future I'll probably be OK too.

The things that have already happened, that I can look back with hindsight on, of course I have a few regrets. I can always think of things I could've done differently. But by the time it's all past, it's set in stone, so there's no worries about the past.

I need to get through the next little bit. Then things will be come clearer.

It's time to make my prayers come true, if I knew precisely what to pray about.