Pan Pizza. Maybe five years ago a Dominos Pizza opened up five miles from me. This Dominos Pizza determined the furthest they would deliver was two hundred yards from my house. And no further. No matter what. If I have to leave my house I might as well drive the five miles, so the two hundred yards I got stubborn about.
This bothered me. Not because I would order all that often, but because it made no sense.
Why did it make no sense? I did explain the why to the owner/manager of said Dominos once, and I'm sure I came off like a weirdo. What I explained to this owner without alerting to this owner that I had an advantage on him on two fronts; (those being: I knew his map better them him, and I had delivered pizza once upon a time); no, all I said was: If your drivers know I'm right'round the corner, why not? -- I'll tip nice for that two hundred yards. The answer was: No.
So: Fuck'em. This is where I explained to him the spot they picked as the line on the road they would never go beyond was only one mile from the entire town in three directions. He was forcing an entire town to leave their homes. But this town was Limtucky, this town was last on the list of towns anyone has ever cared about, the most rural out of a bushel of hicksville hamlets. And this was precisely my point: This town has no pizza competition; for half a mile you'll pick up a lot business.
No. He said.
Whatever. He was right then. Today, not so much. Today, magically the map has enlarged for said pizza company. Yeah it has. Now they'll not only come to my door, they'll probably skimmy up a ponytail Rapunzel-style.
The thing about a business model predicated on driving to the shitty roads, is this: You Can't Always Get Whatchoo Want, (to once again quote Michael Jagger). The saying, "The customer is always right", now means, suffer the idiots complaining to you politely so they will get over it fast and continue to frequent your business, but it used to mean: your customers know things about you and your business that you don't know, if you take the time to really listen you'll learn more from them than from any how to succeed manual -- for instance, old Limtucky might not look like much, but I bet it is keeping the Dom's in bidness, (we appreciate food delivery way out here); it only took five years of not selling pizza for the genius over there to figure it out.
iTumes. Hold up. What I was saying before is I could just dump this last post of the month by posting a list of the music I'm listening to..
Down In The Valley -- The Andrews Sisters
Tossin And Turnin -- Bobby Lewis
Ten Cent Pistol -- The Black Keys
Lonely Weekends -- Charlie Rich
A Hundred Years From Now -- The King
A Hundred Pounds of Clay -- Gene McDaniels
Lonely Teardrops -- Jackie Wilson
Girl From the North Country -- J Cash and B Dylan
The Great Gig in the Sky -- P Floyd
Delirious -- Prince
Judy is a Punk -- Ramones
You Got the Silver -- Stones
The Weight -- Staples Singers
Pool. Anyway. One time I played in a billiard league. Actually I played in several, but the time I speak of is one time in Manhattan. (Not Kansas). I played in an 8-Ball league, which even at the time I thought was small-time, (Who the hell plays 8 ball?). I had spent a lot of adolescent hours in a pool hall. I was not a good pool player. I didn't care about it much; it was last on my list of things to be good at. You see I was the kind of fourteen yar old kid who thought he was the next Orson Welles, but better at movies and also handsomer.
'So roll down a window and let the wind blow back your hair.'
(Springsteen is the only dude I know who had a tough time growing up five miles from the cultural center of the universe. You'd think it was a dust bowl sitting under the lights of ManHat),
I was there once. I played pool. I killed. I was Paul Newman and Tom Cruise with Zevon on the Jukebox.
But it ate at me: why in a town of ten million am I good at this hobby that when in a town of three thousand I sucked? In Limtucky I couldn't beat anybody at 9ball, but in NYC I beat every kid at 8ball. Why?
There's nothing worse than a city hick. So many kids new to a city are there solely to rewrite what they are that no one gets good at things. We think of genius people in New York, but those geniuses had become that elsewhere, and then come to NYC to cash in. A fundamental misunderstanding of the romance around that city.
 | ||
The cowboy on the cover is stricken with cloud-fear.
+ (some junky frag on atheism) -- My personal hypocrisy is that I believe in next to nothing, I want other people to believe in things I don't believe exist because it will end up better for them, which makes life easier for me. I desire a code, not that I'll follow it --there's the rub: when the religious fall off the wagon of their code, the mutts are fast there to witness the hypocrisy. This doesn't make having no code viable. When you a'la carte your code out of this mismash of different philosophies -- that's improvisation, to tweak as the moment merits. Sure, you can't be a hypocrite when you're booking your own morality. A code is meant to be hard. It's also wrong sometimes, and whether you do wrong by it or not is your own personal precipice; but don't congratulate yourself for having never followed a purpose out to that ledge.
Names.
I caught hell the other night in a discussion about facial features. It matters very little, but a very smart lady got nearly to calling me German. Meaning fascistic. Meaning eugenics.
wiki.Eugenics:
is the "applied science or the bio-social movement which advocates the use of practices aimed at improving the genetic composition of a population", usually a human population.
Eugenics was widely popular in the early decades of the 20th century.[7] By the mid-20th century eugenics had fallen into disfavor, having become associated with Nazi Germany. This country's approach to genetics and eugenics was focused on Eugen Fischer's concept of phenogenetics[8] and the Nazi twin study methods of Fischer and Otmar Freiherr von Verschuer. Both the public and some elements of the scientific community have associated eugenics with Nazi abuses, such as enforced "racial hygiene", human experimentation, and the extermination of "undesired" population groups.
Physiognomy would have been nicer.
wiki.Physiognomy:
It is possible to infer character from features, if it is granted that the body and the soul are changed together by the natural affections: I say 'natural', for though perhaps by learning music a man has made some change in his soul, this is not one of those affections natural to us; rather I refer to passions and desires when I speak of natural emotions. If then this were granted and also that for each change there is a corresponding sign, and we could state the affection and sign proper to each kind of animal, we shall be able to infer character from features.
—Prior Analytics 2.27 (Trans. A. J. Jenkinson)
Heavy shit. And all I said was I heard on a radio show that men with broader brows and stronger jawlines, via testosterone, may be less "feeling" by the standards of today. And by less feeling better at following orders. This is how fascism is successful: more monkeys.
Yes I put some credence in reading faces. What can I say?
I'm good with faces. Bad with names. I can do the count on the faces I've seen: monkey cops, soft-skulled professorial fellows; geeks, toughs, rats, and phoneys. That your daddy gave you both name and face doesn't make them similar. Your name he gave you because one time he had dreams.
|
0 comments:
Post a Comment