Green is the colour of the good ol’ days, not gold

Received via email from a friend in her 70s:

If you’re over 60, you’re gonna like this one . . .
And if you’re not, perhaps you should read it anyway –

Checking out at the store, the young cashier suggested to the much older woman that she should bring her own grocery bags because plastic bags weren’t good for the environment.

The woman apologized and explained, “We didn’t have this ‘green thing’ back in my earlier days.”

The young clerk responded, “That’s our problem today. Your generation did not care enough to save our environment for future generations.”

She was right — our generation didn’t have the ‘green thing’ in its day.

Back then, we returned milk bottles, soda bottles and beer bottles to the store. The store sent them back to the plant to be washed and sterilized and refilled, so it could use the same bottles over and over.  So they really were recycled.

But we didn’t have the “green thing” back in our day.

Grocery stores bagged our groceries in brown paper bags, that we reused for numerous things, most memorable besides household garbage bags, was the use of brown paper bags as book covers for our schoolbooks. This was to ensure that public property, (the books provided for our use by the school) were not defaced by our scribbling.  Then we were able to personalize our books on the brown paper bag covers.

But too bad we didn’t do the “green thing” back then.

We walked up stairs, because we didn’t have an escalator in every store and office building. We walked to the grocery store and didn’t climb into a 300-horsepower machine every time we had to go two blocks.

But she was right. We didn’t have the “green thing” in our day.

Back then, we washed the baby’s diapers because we didn’t have the throwaway kind. We dried clothes on a line, not in an energy-gobbling machine burning up 220 volts — wind and solar power really did dry our clothes back in our early days.  Kids got hand-me-down clothes from their brothers or sisters, not always brand-new clothing.

But that young lady is right; we didn’t have the “green thing” back in our day.

Back then, we had one TV, or radio, in the house — not a TV in every room. And the TV had a small screen the size of a handkerchief (remember them?), not a screen the size of the state of Montana. In the kitchen, we blended and stirred by hand because we didn’t have electric machines to do everything for us. When we packaged a fragile item to send in the mail, we used wadded up old newspapers to cushion it, not Styrofoam or plastic bubble wrap. Back then, we didn’t fire up an engine and burn gasoline just to cut the lawn. We used a push mower that ran on human power. We exercised by working so we didn’t need to go to a health club to run on treadmills that operate on electricity.

But she’s right; we didn’t have the “green thing” back then.

We drank from a fountain when we were thirsty instead of using a cup or a plastic bottle every time we had a drink of water. We refilled writing pens with ink instead of buying a new pen, and we replaced the razor blades in a razor instead of throwing away the whole razor just because the blade got dull.

But we didn’t have the “green thing” back then.

Back then, people took the streetcar or a bus and kids rode their bikes to school or walked instead of turning their moms into a 24-hour taxi service in the family’s $45,000 SUV or van, which cost what a whole house did before the “green thing.” We had one electrical outlet in a room, not an entire bank of sockets to power a dozen appliances. And we didn’t need a computerized gadget to receive a signal beamed from satellites 23,000 miles out in space in order to find the nearest burger joint.

But isn’t it sad the current generation laments how wasteful we old folks were just because we didn’t have the “green thing” back then?

Please forward this on to another selfish old person who needs a lesson in conservation from a smartass young person…

We don’t like being old in the first place, so it doesn’t take much to rile us…especially from a tattooed, multiple pierced
smartass who can’t make change without the cash register telling them how much.

YOU HAVE A SWELL DAY NOW!

Another view of one’s colon viewed by a scope

Colonoscopies under the microscope of the journalism “newspaper test”.

BTW, here’s my colonoscopy cost breakdown from the Huntsville Endoscopy Center:

Colonoscopy Flex, w/REMV: $1087
==> Insurance payment: $736.40
==> Insurance non-allowed: $0.60

Patient balance: $350.00

An economy in transition

So, while I was contemplating the pleasures of making rat/raccoon/mice stew (we woodsmen eat whatever meat we trap), I got to thinking.

Now, I ain’t much of a thinker, to be honest.

I flunked out of 13th grade and had to start over at another one of them institutes of higher learning.

Not like I can’t solve world hunger if’n I put my mind to it, though.

Of course, I ain’t got no mind but I got a mind to tell you what I was thinking.

See here, it’s like this.

We got this global employment imbalance, that’s what I’m saying.

It don’t take no rocket scientist to see why.

Why, I ask, why?

Well, if them experts is right, we have just about as many female breadwinners as men.

And, on top of that, many of them is single mothers trying to feed their babies.

I’m all for women’s librarians, what they like to call themselves “Women’s Lib.”  We should’ve taught them lady friends how to read a long time ago.  The more they can read, the more they can follow instructions and become real good at their jobs — don’t matter to me none if they’s a baggin’ groceries or rocketin’ toward the Moon.

What I want to know, though, is if a family run by a woman is spending as much of her money in the consumer economy as a family run by a man.

That there might explain why we have such a global employment imbalance and might even explain the income inequality problems we’s a facing in these here troubled economic times.

I’m just an old country boy trying to survive.

I scrape ticks off my body every day.  I swat at mosquitoes without knowing they’re there.  I scratch at my poison ivy boils like clockwork.  Red ants think my ankles is a biting post.

I shake my fist at varmints eating my figs and mulberries.  They done broke my persimmon tree in half.

I ain’t much but I’m something.

My house is so chewed-up and broken down, you can’t tell it from the rusted truck and old jalopy with flat tires hiding in the weeds.

You women-folk has got to do your part, if’n you’s gonna claim you’re just as good as us men were when we ruled the roost and had the economy running full steam under the moonshine still — you better get them rich folks and their corporationalisms to open their rainy-day piggy banks and help you out of this pickle.

Otherwise, there’s a world of hurting about to hit us, if the creek don’t rise and the tornadoes don’t blow over the outhouse ’cause them foxes has done got into the henhouse and fertilized some eggs.

Cash is as good as cash these days!

Would you rather pay a discounted rate to see your physician, pay concierge pricing to have an MD on retainer, or pay using your health insurance and play Russian roulette with your medical bills?

Dr. Michael Ciampi may have the right diagnosis to answer the question.

Music du jour, however timeless

The Patriot Game never ends…

Lyrics to The Patriot Game :

(Billy Behen)

Come all you young rebels and list while we sing for the love of one’s country is a terrible thing.
It banishes fear with the speed of a flame and it makes us all part of the patriot game.

My name is O’Hannon and I’ve just gone sixteen. My home is in Monaghan where I was weaned.
I’ve learned all my life cruel England’s to blame and so I’m a part of the patriot game.

It’s barely two years since they wandered away and it was with the local battalion of the bold IRA
For they’d read of our heroes and they wanted the same to play their own part in the patriot game.

This Ireland of ours has for long been half-free. Six counties are under John Bull’s tyranny.
So, we gave up our boyhood to drill and to train and play our own part in the patriot game.

And now as I lie here, my body all holes, I think of those traitors who bargained in souls.
I wish that my rifle had given the same to those Quislings who sold out the patriot game.