Laboring in the obscurity he so richly deserves for two decades now, your crusty correspondent sporadically offers his views on family, law, politics and money. Nothing herein should be taken too seriously: If you look closely, you can almost see the twinkle in Curmudgeon's eye. Or is that a cataract?
Thursday, March 13, 2025
Daylight Savings Time: Providing neither more daylight nor any other appreciable savings
Traffic accidents go up on the Monday after Daylight Savings Time begins; there is also an uptick in heart attacks. And how many people fall off chairs, or ladders, trying to change the clocks in the kitchen or on top of a bookshelf?
Do you know anyone who really likes DSL? When I was working full-time, of course, I raged that losing an hour of my precious weekend was a terrible burden -- but, even in retirement, I see no virtue in it. I saw something online about an old Indian chief who allegedly said only the American government could cut the top foot off a blanket, then sew it back on the bottom of the same blanket, and then claim the blanket was now a foot longer. That story about sums up my current attitude toward DST. Do we turn on the lights a little later in the evening now at the Curmudgeon home? Yes, we do. But, just as we were starting to no longer need to light every light in the house to get moving in the morning, we now need them again.
A month ago (or so) we were turning into a blinding sunrise as I pulled out of our driveway to take Long Suffering Spouse to school. But the days got a little longer and the Sun became no longer an issue. Now, with DST, we are turning into the blinding sunrise again.
These are not terrible things; they are merely dumb. Pointless....
...but not permanent.
In a week, we won't be driving into the sunrise (again). In two weeks, we won't need to turn all the lights on in the house to get started in the morning.
Once I finish changing the clocks, the new time is the only time I know. Or acknowledge.
Long Suffering Spouse is made differently. I suspect she is far from alone in this: She clings to the notion that it is 5:00, although the clock says 6:00, for many days. The alarm doesn't ring at 5:30 a.m. (though the clock says otherwise). For Long Suffering Spouse, it is still 4:30 a.m. And she is more tired accordingly.
Middle Son and Margaret and their five children live in Michigan now, down among the Insufferable Elitists, according to this "Painfully Honest" map of Michigan:
That's in the Eastern time zone. Thus, when we went to visit them, a couple of weeks ago, before the switch to DST, we nevertheless had to 'spring forward,' if only for the weekend. Our phones and my Fitbit, at least, do this automatically; I changed the time on the car dashboard before we were out of Indiana. But Long Suffering Spouse kept asking, "What time is it really?"
I well know that I am not as accepting of as many things as I should be. But when all the clocks in the house agree that it is 8:15, I accept their verdict. Because everyone else in the vicinity is in the same boat.
Still... the only good thing I can think of about DST is that it furnishes an excuse for us to turn back our clocks to Standard Time in the Fall. And who doesn't appreciate an extra hour on the weekend? [Rips foot off bottom of blanket and sews it back to the top of blanket... and all the while wonders... could we do this with velcro instead?]
Thursday, December 30, 2021
The email riles up Curmudgeon... again
I have a number of email accounts, personal and professional, and they all get clogged with garbage. But some of the emails get my goat more than others....
This one hacks me off every single month: I have a DirecTV dish and a ginormous AT&T bill each month that goes along with it. Which I have faithfully, if never cheerfully, paid when due.
This never stops AT&T though. It insists on treating me as if I were a habitual deadbeat. From today's email:
For the record (although, as a long-time solo practicing lawyer I know this is one of the oldest lies in the history of commerce) my check to AT&T is in the mail.
And was, moreover, before I got this insulting notice.
I can't imagine ever sending such a notice to a client, huffing about payment on a bill not yet due!
Didn't we used to have antitrust laws in this country? AT&T was broken up during my lifetime -- how was it allowed to recombine, like a Ray Harryhausen skeleton in Jason and the Argonauts, only bigger and more evil?
Slightly less aggravating was the email I received from an auto dealer. (A couple of years ago, I was compelled to buy a new van to replace our old one. Indeed, it was at the repair shop referred to in the linked post, on a subsequent visit, that the repair technician came, someberly, into the waiting room -- I think he was clutching his hat with both hands in front of him, eyes downcast -- to tell me, "You know, Curmudgeon, we all have to go some time....")
Anyway, the dealer (separate and distinct from the repair shop) showers me with emails, touting new models or service on my van. I don't answer them. And I don't feel bad in not answering them.
It's not like they're paying for postage.
But the dealer, apparently, is becoming slightly peeved, as this excerpt from the dealer's most recent email would indicate (edited to remove identifying details):
Hello [CURMUDGEON],
I have attempted to reach you, but I've had no success.
Either you have been eaten by alligators or you are just plain swamped. If you have been eaten by alligators... my deepest sympathy goes out to your family members. If you are still alive, one of the following is more likely to have happened. I hate to keep pestering you, but I do want to express my desire to work with you.
Please pick one response, email or phone (773) xxx-xxxx letting me know what our next step should be:
1. Yes!, I have been eaten by alligators. Please send flowers.Please be as open as possible. Thanks for your response.
2. No, I have not been eaten by alligators but you may wish I had been because I have decided I have no interest in your service. Sorry, you are sunk (Thanks for your frank honesty, I can handle it.)
3. Yes, I have some interest, but here are my challenges:..............
4. Yes, I have some interest. Let’s talk and get together on:...........
Doesn't that seem a tad peevish to you?
I have not, and will not, respond to this email, although the temptation to choose option 1 is pretty strong.
But I, of all people, should be sympathetic when an attempt at humor falls flat.
Least aggravating, for purposes of this review, but still, in my opinion, a nusiance, is this reminder from Walgreen's:
Yes, I am cheap. (I prefer to say frugal, but I won't argue with cheap.)
But would I really venture out unnecessarily in the midst of a record COVID-19 surge just for the sake of 83 cents?
I'll have to get back to you on this... I'm still thinking it over.
Meanwhile, have a safe and healthy New Year's holiday.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Greetings from soggy Chicago: Where we get soaked in more ways than one
And speaking of soaking. Last week, before Ike, gasoline prices in many parts of Chicago had slipped below $4 a gallon. A Citgo station in Niles was down to $3.92.
As I told Youngest Son as I filled up our car on that occasion, the human spirit is remarkably adaptable. We can exult at being gouged for $3.92 for a gallon of gasoline when only a year ago we would have been searching for torches, pitchforks and tar at the very thought.
Then the Weather Channel began broadcasting minute by minute updates of Ike's progress in the Gulf of Mexico.
It is true that a large portion of the gasoline refining capacity of the United States is concentrated in the Gulf region. It is also true that the refineries had to be powered down and secured in anticipation of the storm. Common sense and elementary economics suggests that these actions would, eventually, have an impact on prices.
But overnight?
Within a day of filling up for $3.92 a gallon, that same station posted a new price: $4.09. Nor was it alone.
Nationally, gasoline prices allegedly went up seven cents in a single day (an increase of 17 cents between Friday and today, according to MarketWatch).
In Chicago, though, gasoline prices went up far more. At this one station, it went up 47 cents in the week. That $4.09 went to $4.29 and then to $4.39 on the next day.
Most of this occurred before Ike hit and all of it occurred before any possible damage to the refineries could be assessed. But, of course, everyone concerned denied any price gouging and the populace seemed accepting of these bland reassurances.
And there's good news! Reuters reports this morning on Yahoo! News that crude oil prices have fallen significantly because Ike didn't do nearly as much damage as was feared and because, in the latest fallout from the mortgage crisis, Lehman Brothers has filed for bankruptcy.
And here's the best part -- at least if you're a multimillionaire CEO in the banking or energy industries -- no one seems to be getting indicted.
Somehow, though, I don't feel like celebrating.
---------------------------------------------------------------
INSTANT UPDATE. Maybe not everyone is accepting the bland denials of gas gouging. The Illinois Attorney General is looking into gouging allegations. However, the linked article seems to suggest that the AG is looking at gas station dealers. May I politely suggest looking further up the distribution chain? Please? (Hat tip to The Capitol Fax Blog for this link.)
Friday, January 18, 2008
Observations on a Friday morning
---------------------------------------------------------------
Speaking of insoluble political problems, let's talk about the American presidential primaries for a minute.
Much has been made, of late, of Senator Barack Obama's experience, or lack thereof, as he seeks the presidency. Recently columnists such as Fr. Andrew Greeley and Eric Zorn have questioned the extent to which prior experience helps one become a great American President. Both note another candidate from Illinois, with limited experience in Congress before coming to the White House, did just fine. And Obama would be the last to dismiss parallels between himself and Abraham Lincoln. Zorn notes that "Obama all but donned a stovepipe hat when announcing his candidacy in Springfield."
Greeley writes about Presidents who should have been amply prepared, judging by their résumés, before assuming office: James Madison (who despite his wealth of pre-Presidential experience had to flee Washington one step ahead of invading British troops) or Herbert Hoover (prior Cabinet experience, the man who kept Belgium and Russia from starving) or a certain two-term Governor of the State of Texas whom Fr. Greeley loathes so thoroughly that he must bore his confessor to tears recounting ad nauseum his un-Christian thoughts about the man.
I wonder if anyone -- ever -- is prepared to be the President of the United States. I wonder if it is possible. I suspect that it is not.
I think that the times and circumstances and inevitable trials may bring out any hidden greatness in the character of the occupant of the office. Or not.
Which is a sobering thought less than three weeks from Super Tuesday, isn't it?
---------------------------------------------------------------
It's cold in Chicago this morning. Temperatures were in the single digits when I got up this morning, but they've climbed into double digits and are approaching the teens. It's crisp and clear. Cold and flu viruses (virii?) are dying by the gazillions, unable to survive the journey from one person's wheezing to the nasal passages of the fellow walking past on the sidewalk. Tonight, allegedly, temperatures will drop below zero.
Welcome to January in Chicago.
But to watch the TV news last night -- the grave intonations of the studio anchors -- the grim warnings of the reporters doing stand-ups outside (some with hats, some without), you'd think there was a meteor heading straight for Millennium Park.
We get this also anytime a snow accumulation of more than an inch is predicted.
I can understand and appreciate that this tone is entirely appropriate when a meteor or hurricane or invading horde is in fact approaching -- but not to hype a perfectly ordinary weather forecast.
What triggers this kind of phony 'this-is-the-voice-of-doom' tone on your local newscasts?
Friday, May 11, 2007
A bill collection story... with a twist

But today I have a new one. Honest.
Every month West Publishing (or Thomson West as they're calling themselves these days) sends me two bills, one for legal research (Westlaw) and another for a web site that supposedly drives business to me (Findlaw). I have no use for the web site -- I only wanted it so people looking for me specifically could find me during the transition from the old to new Undisclosed Locations -- but Westlaw is useful. And expensive. These two bills add up, every month, to more than what I pay in rent.
(Aside to Shelby and any other law students who come by from time to time: You get to use Westlaw free while you're in school. It's like drug pushers giving away samples on the school playground: They count on you to become addicted. And when you're out of school -- wham! -- they can charge you pretty near whatever they want. And they do. And, what's worse, you almost can't practice without Westlaw access in your field.)
It's no secret that things have been slow around here: When I work, I sometimes don't make money. But when I don't work I definitely don't earn money... and I've lost considerable time from work because of my health this year. So the fact is I fell behind on my payments to West -- a couple of months behind, in fact, before I sent in the February and March payments during April.
It's May 11 now and the April payments (due at the end of April, you understand) haven't yet been sent. They're late... not very late... but late.
But West must be getting nervous about me: Yesterday I received a dunning notice on the fax.
It mentioned the overdue April Findlaw and Westlaw payments, as you might expect.
It also mentioned the May payments... which aren't yet due.
In fact, I just got the May Westlaw bill today.
That's right: I got a collection notice about a bill that was not only not late, it was not yet received.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
At least today's post is short
Rain is, of course, predicted.
And while there are so many other things I want to write about -- almost anything other than this pleading I'm working on, actually -- I'll just leave you with this comic that I didn't see in the Sunday Tribune:

Monday, February 12, 2007
Incoherent techno-rant -- or -- Curse you, Windows Media Player 11

This has been building for some time, actually, but the final straws were piled on the camel's back this afternoon as I tried to catch up on my time sheets.
I wanted to listen to music while working.
The music is on my hard drive. My computer is just a little over three years old, ancient I realize by contemporary standards.
But no visitor to these postings can be long unaware that I am not overly enamored of contemporary standards. That which works is fine by me, even if it is not the newest or the coolest. I do not apologize for this.
And my computer was not the coolest kid on the block even when new: It was an off the shelf generic. The only things I look for in a new computer are a generous allotment of RAM according to standards extant on date of purchase and a generous hard drive according to those same standards. That way, I used to think, I'd get full service from the machine until software "improvements" made it necessary to upgrade.
Thank you, Mr. Gates.
I have since learned that I must also look for generous video memory, but I'm not playing games on this poor machine and I don't want to get off the subject here. Indeed, I want to go home.
I have listened to the music on my computer with Windows Media Player 10 for some time. Recently, I had occasion to download Windows Media Player 11.
And I've known no peace since.
The music is no better, and certainly no louder (which no doubt is a consolation to my office mates). But the program takes f....o....r....e....v....e....r to load and it s.....l.....o.....w.....s everything else on the machine down to a snail's pace.
For what?
Now, I can understand that some new programs do new things and require more memory and more storage space. But this program plays music. Just as did its predecessor.
So why in tarnation does it eat up so much of my poor old computer's memory, thus destroying any semblance of performance?
Please answer me, O technogeeks in cyberspace: Why isn't this program more compact, more condensed, more efficient? Wouldn't that constitute progress?
But this is only one of my technical complaints at present: You may have noticed I've added a couple of geegaws to this page. A "Page Rank" button, for example. I read Susan's February 4 post and followed all the links and learned about the evils of "sandboxing" and blogrolling and all sorts of things I didn't know were problematic. One linked article suggested that, if you must link to someone's blog, make sure they're at least a page rank 4 (PR 4). Sounded rather snobby to me... but insecure sort that I am, I had to find out where I stood.
And I was so relieved! I, too, was a PR 4. So I installed the button. To show off, I guess.
And this weekend, when I was checking my email I looked at my blog... and now I was a PR 0.
It was a devastating rejection. What had I done? Who had I offended? (Today, it seems to be a PR 4... but my confidence is shot....)
And then I put in a "subscribe in a reader button" because I read somewhere that this is a way to boost readership. But I have no idea what it does or what subscription means in this context. I visit blogs that visit me -- the ones that link to me first, either in a sidebar or as identified through Technorati. But that involves using a blogroll that makes me "look like a linkfarm." This, apparently is bad. I also visit the blogs of people that leave comments. I haven't been told exactly why this is wrong yet, but I'm sure I'll find an article soon that says this also is right out.
I know I claim to be a dinosaur -- and I prove it from time to time -- but I'm trying to evolve... and this technology, hardware and software alike, seems determined to keep me from keeping up.
Aaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrgggghhhhhh! (*Swinging club now*)
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Whatever happened to the 12 days of Christmas?

The cards are my problem. And I'm making no progress at all. For years I've used labels for mailing. I use them at work, too: Clear labels that take inkjet ink just fine thank you. I didn't change brands. I didn't change printers. I didn't change anything -- but the sheets from the new box will not line up. At all.
And why does everything have to be done by Sunday anyway?
Whatever happened to the 12 days of Christmas? They are supposed to start -- start, mind you -- on Monday. Christmas Day. That's only The First Day of Christmas. You know....

But, no, by the time Christmas Day dawns, everything must not only be done, it's more than likely over. As it will be at our house. If we ever get anything wrapped.
Meantime, I have an evidence deposition to prepare for tomorrow. I can't believe it's going to go ahead -- I wouldn't produce the Defendant if I were representing him -- my case would be harder if the Defendant merely admitted liability and made me try the case on damages. I'd explain... but I really should be reading the file because I was just brought into the case and I don't know it yet. And I promised that I'd prepare a complaint in a new case for a municipal client by Friday... and I really need to start that too. And though I finally got (yesterday!)the settlement checks on a case I'd settled in October -- the one in which the carrier made a bogus attempt to try and get a subro lien paid out of my proceeds -- I do have to worry about how we're going to get through February. So I have to get my billing out.
Which means I have to catch up on my timesheets.
Which means I shouldn't be here blogging, right? Well, maybe just a little more later... if I get something done....