BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

And, no. For those of you who are old enough to remember this, I am NOT about to break into a rousing chorus of  “I Do The Watusi” by Howie Mandel. If you are too young to remember, then click on the link above and have yourself a taste of post St. Elsewhere but pre Deal or No Deal Howie…

But, as usual, I digress…

MY questions aren’t about cottage cheese in shoes, or hamsters named Phil residing behind bars (again, see the above link). Mine are about this show called Extreme Makeover: Home Edition.

I accidentally watched a couple of episodes of this thing. Primarily because I turned on the TV and there it was. I used to like watching stuff like This Old House and Hometime, so I gave it a go. In case you haven’t seen this thing, it basically revolves around that hyper guy who used to do the Sears commercials and a group of interior decorators/remodeler/contractor types. They roll into a town in a tour bus and right up to the door of the person selected for the home makeover (via an interesting application process I’ve now found out). They send the person and their family off on an all expense paid vacation for a week, then demolish their house and put a new one in its place. All good, correct? I mean, especially when you consider that the people who manage to run the gauntlet of the application process are usually in some way, shape, or form, nearly destitute. They can’t pay for even the simplest of repairs on their home, in some cases the home is being condemned by the city, they have a whole raft of kids, and are living hand to mouth, and it seems that a prerequisite is to also have one or more disabilities in the family unit. These people are desperately in need of help. So, this show is doing an incredibly good and charitable thing for these folks…or so it seems.

These TV personalities roll in and replace the existing home with a brand new, completely decked out, much larger “dream home” by almost anyone’s standards (except the unnaturally wealthy that is). I’m talking in terms of a 45K shack or even a  worthless piece of falling down condemned building being replaced by a 250K to 350K home (And I’m just talking about the “shell of the home” when I toss out that number, because it doesn’t end there…They end up with all of the redecorating amenities, all new furniture, plasma TV’s on damn near every wall, and a kitchen that would make Emeril scream BAM! at the top of his lungs…Not to mention added bonus stuff like expensive toys and/or sports memorabilia for the kids, etc…–and that is just naming a FEW of the niceties.)

Well, here is where my questions start popping up.

Now remember, like I said, most of these folks (the ones I’ve seen so far, at least) can barely make their mortgage and feed themselves too, so let’s keep that in mind, as that is what is prompting most of my questions…

1) Who is going to pay the taxes on this new house? They are going to be a hell of a lot higher than they were before.

2) How do the rest of the people in the neighborhood feel about this monstrosity sitting next to their smaller homes? This new home’s value is definitely going to affect the neighborhood standing, and therefore the values and taxes on their homes. One way or the other. Either THEIR taxes are going to go up, or if the neighborhood is REALLY depressed, suddenly the city is going to come in and start condemning everyone else’s home. Next thing you know eminent domain happens and developers get their fingers in the pie, and…well, you see where I am heading…

3) Since these “dream homes” are normally being plunked down in middle to lower class neighborhoods, what would happen if for some reason that home needed to be sold? You sure can’t get the dollars that went into it back out of it if the neighborhood won’t support it. Unless, of course, some permutation of the question number 2 scenarios occurs…

4) Why in all hell do these people need Plasma TV’s on almost every wall in the friggin house? That’s one I just can’t get my head around…

and finally…

5) Wouldn’t it be better for ABC and this program to build smaller, less opulent homes that are livable and solid, thereby being able to build MORE of them and actually HELP MORE PEOPLE who need it? Oh, I don’t know, like maybe in Mississippi and Louisiana? People who are living in ratty FEMA trailers and not knowing when or if they’ll ever manage to get their homes rebuilt?

Yes, I know. If they were to actually do number 5 then it wouldn’t be EXTREME, and they wouldn’t have a viable TV Show would they?

Well, sorry, I still see this as a rather ridiculous excess. But then, that’s just my opinion…and you know what they say. That and a buck will get you a cup of coffee (as long as you aren’t talking Starbucks. Nothing against Starbucks mind you…it’s just that you won’t get a cup of coffee there for a buck…)

MR

(This post is in response to a comment left when the Yule Poem was originally posted on Myspace…)

Yes, Jo, I am often amazed that EK doesn’t strangle me as well…

However, I feel compelled to give you all the history behind my version of “Twas the Night Before Xmas”…And, no, it isn’t because EK has me in a choke hold, or that she is standing over me with a flogger…

(Probably because she’s at work right now .)

Anyhow, the posted version of “TwasXmas” is one that is slightly tweaked, with a couple of extra verses added. The “original” psycho-redheaded-material girl filk of this timeless poem was written by me back in December, 1995. Yes, pre Rowan Gant (but not by much, as I began writing the short stories upon which the RGI series are based in 1996.)

Some of you may be aware that I had a long career as a Senior Level Electronics Technician, and in July of ’95 I was stolen away from the service center I managed by a company that had landed a lucrative contract with none other than Western Union. They needed someone capable of doing component level repair on old Concord Payment Terminals. Now, while I had never even seen one of these blue beasts before going to work for this company, I was part of a dying breed of technician–meaning, not only could I work on computers, but I actually knew how to use an Oscilloscope, Logic Probe, Solder/Desolder Station, as well as being able to read schematics. This meant that I could take one of these little beggars apart, track down the offending components (logic IC’s, resistors, capacitors, crystals, what have you) and replace them. They offered me A BUNCH of money to come work for them, as well as some especially tidy bonuses if I could meet a particular quota of repairs. At the risk of blowing my own horn, I actually did 2.5 times the quota each year–so the bonuses were very nice.

So, there is the setup. I left a management position to become a bench tech for another company. While that seems a step down, the dollars made it quite a step up.

However, something I discovered after joining this company is that during the annual Xmas Party, the newest member of the staff was required to Sing, Dance, or in some fashion briefly entertain the rest of the staff. Having been hired on in July, I hoped that I would be spared by a more recent hire but alas, that was not to be. When the holiday party rolled around, I was still the newest kid on the block, and 2 minutes of silly entertainment was expected of me.

Since I cannot carry a tune in a bucket, even if I have help, (just ask the Barstool Prophets…I sat in with them during a party held in my honor at Violet Flame Gifts in Ohio and croaked through a song or two…in my defense I was rather inebriated, but I digress…) As I was saying, since my ear is apparently composed of a tin-aluminum alloy, I asked if it would be okay for me to recite a poem instead. (Yeah, I can’t dance either…think Elaine from Seinfeld)…They were all for that and so it was set. However, you know me. I couldn’t see my way clear to recite something serious, and “TwasXmas” was born.

I actually have the two fading yellow sheets of legal pad paper upon which the original version was written here on my desk. I dug them out of my files so that I could transcribe the bit of rhyme here, and of course, decided to tweak it a bit in the process…(One of those silly writer things)

But, this isn’t where the story ends…(Yeah, here comes the part about EK)…The poem was written all in fun. The absolute truth of the matter is that EK is one of the most practical individuals on the face of the earth. Were the scenario in the poem real, she would be more likely to offer the fat SOB a Scotch, then sit down and calmly talk to him about her list which would contain such items as warm socks, an electric blanket, or maybe some new towels for the linen closet. I kid you not.

Yes, Virginia, the only thing material about my redhead is the fact that I spoil her with material things whenever I can afford it. Oh, she’s still Evil, don’t misunderstand. She’s just not a material kind of Evil…

So, there you have it.

MR