Rant #3,570: Over and Over

So, did you do your civic duty and vote?

If you did, you did the right thing, no matter who you voted for and who ends up being the winners.

If you didn't, you did not perform your civic duty and you have absolutely no right to say anything about those who won and those who lost.

We won't fully know who won for another day or so, so I will hold off on saying anything about that.

I think I already said enough by not voting for either of the major candidates.

And you know what the best thing about all of this is?

NO MORE POLITICAL COMMERCIALS!!!!!

These commercials were ubiquitous for the past few weeks.

Some were vicious, and others were, to say the least, completely disgusting.

In New York, we had one commercial that came with a disclaimer, both at the beginning and end of this abomination, and let me tell you--

It takes a lot to repulse me, but this particular one did it, and did it good.

Otherwise, these political commercials ran seemingly non-stop, and I am not really talking about the Harris and Trump TV ads, I am more reflecting on the ads touting local races.

I don't know about where you are, but in New York, many of these commercials--which ran incessantly--were vicious.

So happily, we are now free of them--

And we can go back to complaining about the usual TV ads, which are annoying on their own.

I was alerted yesterday afternoon that on Thursday, I have to cover a webinar for work that will look at Election Day and its various implications.

It should be interesting, I guess.

Whatever happens, the country is divided, and this past Election Day will probably show that the divisions remain.

But Election Day is over, thank goodness, and my family and I were full participants in the voting process.

And the winner is--?

As I am writing this, it appears that Trump is on his way back to the White House.

I will have a bit more to say about this tomorrow, but suffice it to say, I am not that surprised at this outcome.

But as they say, "it ain't over 'til it's over," so I will hold off saying anything more until it is officially over.

And good luck to our new president ... he--or she--is going to need it.

Rant #3,569: Do It Again

Happy Election Day!

Don't forget to vote.

It is very important for every citizen to vote, and being that we are voting for our president for the next four years, it is imperative to get out to vote--

No matter who you cast your ballot for.

My family and I voted weeks ago by mail.

Since we moved around the time of the last election, it simply made it easier for us to do it by mail.

I have no idea who my wife and son voted for--but it really doesn't matter--

At least they cast their ballots.

Me, as you know, I wrote in my presidential candidate, because quite honestly, both major party candidates don't do anything at all for me.

But who did I vote for?

Well, I really don't have to tell you ... 

But I will.

I voted for this person because this person was kind of a middle-of-the road candidate when this person was in the race.

No, I did not agree with everything this person said, but this person aligned with a lot that I believe in, more so than Harris and Trump did.

And the interesting thing is that I will bet this person actually garners thousands of votes in this election, voted for by people like myself, true independent voters who can't vote for the two major candidates.

This person is our future, and I will bet this person runs again in 2028--

I voted for ...

NIKKI HALEY

And I hope others did too.

Any vote for her or any other write-in vote is not a wasted vote.

It sends a strong message to the two major candidates that people like me did not support you, and you are going to have to show us how good a commander in chief you are to get our vote the next time, in Harris' case, or, in Trump's case, support the next Republican presidential candidate--if it isn't Haley--the next time around.

And on another topic, yes, I did get a raise--thanks to the "top guy" at the company for green-lighting it!

So there you have it.

Back to the vote ...

And while you are waiting on long lines to vote, please give a look at Chapter 2 of my novel.

Let me know any feelings you have about it.

Vote "Yea" or "Nay," just like in the presidential election.

2

A day or two later, Mrs. Panim, still not fully awake and not quite making out where she was or what happened to her, finally came to, slowly opening up her eyes and trying to focus on what was before her.

She saw two nurses standing before her as her vision slowly came into focus.

“Where am I?” she shouted, nearly jumping out of the bed in doing so.

One of the nurses, a tall, thin woman with long hair neatly tucked under her nurses’ cap, came over to her to get her straightened in the bed while trying to calm her down.

“Everything is fine, everything is good,” said the other nurse, a short, kind of squat older woman with grayish white hair tied up in a bun on her head, as the taller nurse put her arms on Mrs. Panim’s shoulders. “Everything is going to be all right.”

Mrs. Panim finally realized that she was in a hospital.

“Why am I in a hospital?” she shouted to the nurses. “Why am I here? Where is my husband?”

The shorter nurse, who looked very familiar to Mrs. Panim, even in her current state of grogginess, said to her, “You took a great fall at school, and we had to bring you here to get better.”

When the words “get better” came out of the shorter nurse’s mouth, Mrs. Panim put her hands on her belly, and realized that it wasn’t as round or full as it had been.

She panicked. “Where is my baby? What happened to me? Where is my husband?”

The shorter nurse approached Mrs. Panim, and even in her current condition, she could see that the woman had thick legs and a slight limp. As the nurse got closer to the bed, Mrs. Panim tried to make out her nameplate, but only got to “M-E-Y-“ as she tried to gain her composure.

Mrs. Panim continued with that chorus of questions as a tall man in a white coat, Mrs. Panim’s gynecologist, came into the room and approached the bed where she was laying.

“Mrs. Panim, I want to talk to you about why you are here.”

Once she recognized  Dr. Newsom, Mr. Panim thought she might get some answers. “Why am I here? Where is my baby? Where is my husband?” Mrs. Panim continued to shout out, but the doctor put his finger over his mouth to try and get her to stop shouting and to listen to what he had to say.

When she finally quieted down, Dr. Newsom spoke.

“Mrs. Panim, you had quite a fall at school the other day. The EMTs came as fast as they could, and you were brought here to the hospital, and —“

“Where is my baby?” Mrs., Panim asked again, shrieking out her question.

“Your baby … well, when you fell, it was necessary to force childbirth a little bit … you were almost at term, anyway, and you fell in such a way that we thought that it would be the better situation for both you and your child to be separated.”

“Where is my baby?” Mrs. Panim shrieked again. “Where is my baby and where is my husband?”

“You are a bit … well, you are a bit weak to hold and … well … see the child just yet,” the doctor said, as he put his right hand through the hair on the top of his head like a comb. “You don’t realize that you have been in here a week already, and you are just now coming to.”

“A week? Did I fall on my head? Where is my baby?”

“You fell in kind of a weird way, falling on your face and when the EMTs came, they said your hand was holding its nose in such a way that it kind of … well … it kind of looked like you had smelled something quite unappealing to you and that you were trying to not smell whatever that was.”

Mrs. Panim thought about how she was thinking of cheese when she had fallen, so the whole thing made sense to her as she reached up to her face and for the first time, felt a large swath of bandage on her cheek and nose.

“Mrs. Panim, the nurses took all of your vital signs, and they appear to be OK, but I think I want you to give it another day of rest before you will be able to see your baby.”

“If my vital signs are OK, why can’t I see my baby? I want to see my baby, and I want to see my husband.”

The nurses and the doctor each made a nervous smile as they all looked at each other.

“Mrs. Panim, I would wait a day or two, or maybe even three, before I saw the child,” the doctor said, trying to hold back what appeared to be a nervous chuckle. “It will make the surprise even … I mean the surprise at whether the child is a boy or girl, even … well, even more … um … stupendous!”

“I want to see my child, and I want to see my husband!” Mrs. Panim shouted. “If my vital signs are OK, then why can’t I see the baby? Is the baby sickly or anything like that?”

“Well, no … but Mrs., Panim, please listen to reason … waiting an extra day or two after you haven’t seen the child for so long when you were out isn’t going to spoil the … the um … the pleasure of seeing your child for the first time a day or two from now.”

“If I don’t see my child right away, I am going to speak to my husband, and I will sue you. Do you want to be sued?”

“Well, no, but Mrs. Panim, listen to reason.”

“There is NO reason not to see my baby,” Mrs. Panim said, as she got off the bed, stood up still attached to the IV, and started to unsteadily leave her hospital room.

“Mrs. Panim, wait … Mrs. Panim … Mrs. Panim … !,” the doctor shouted as she pushed him and the nurses aside as she left the room.

“I dare say that that woman might have a heart attack once she sees that kid,” the doctor said, suppressing s short laugh as he looked at the nurses, who continued to have nervous smiles on their faces.

Rant #3,568: While You See a Chance

Thanks for reading the first chapter of my novel.

I will put up succeeding chapters once or twice a week in the coming weeks, and hopefully by then, I will have a better "read" on publishing the novel or not.

I see a chance for the publishing of the novel to finally reach fruition--

And I also took a chance on something else late last week that could affect a lot of things in my life.

After four years of working as a remote worker for an association based in Washington, D.C., I finally asked for a raise.

I have found that it is a bit different--and more unnerving--asking for a raise remotely than it is when you actually work in an office.

When you work in an office, you pretty much know the hierarchy, and the protocol, and who to ask for an increase in your paycheck, whether you work in a large firm or a small one.

When you work remotely, you can't possibly know that type of hierarchy, or who to go to to ask for an increase in your paycheck.

I certainly don't--and an extra level.of anxiety is that I had to email my request in to about five people who I thought could possibly help me.

One already emailed me back, stating that he was not the guy, adding that the president of the association might be the right person.

The president of the association was one of those I emailed, so if he reads his emails, he knows about my request--

And no, I haven't heard from him yet.

In all fairness, I have to give it time.

I remember that in my previous in-person position, I had to remind certain higher-ups several times about my requests, which was not only unnerving, but embarrassing, to say the least.

I also remember one time I was granted a raise right away, only to find in the next paycheck that they had actually lowered my pay.

I brought this mistake up to the powers that were running the company at the time, and they shrugged me off several times, one time telling me "it will have to wait until after Thanksgiving" for them even to take a look at it.

Well, it was finally "after Thanksgiving," and they continued not to acknowledge the mistake, until I gave them the cold shoulder in the office--

And then, they somehow blamed me for their mistake, and it took a few paychecks to not only pay me correctly, but make up for the money they owed me.

I repeat, they blamed me for this ... it is incredible that I lasted nearly a quarter of a century working for people like this, but I did.

So back to 2024 ....I think I deserve a little more in my monthly paycheck. 

I have done some really good work during the psst four years, and let's be honest about it: I need this job as much as some diabetics need insulin, so I am hoping they can bump up my salary a wee bit.

I don't make very much to begin with--maybe a third or perhaps a quarter of what I should be making if I did this full-time--so I don't think my request is out of line.

Let's see what happens.

But I don't think it hurt to ask--

Although in the new world we live in, the way I had to do it made me a bit uncomfortable.

I wonder how other remote workers handle this subject, and if any of you out there have had experience with this task, please let me know.

Rant #3,567: Help!

The stink still stinks, and for the Yankees to play their worst game of the season in a do-or-die World Series game remains unconscionable.

But I, and millions of others Yankees fans, will get over it.

This postseason should be interesting, to say the least, and the fans, and the players, will get over it.

As far as myself, I simply shut the TV off after the final out was recorded, and went right to sleep, so I didn't think about it until the next day, but honestly, I have more important things to think about--

Like what to do with my long-dormant novel.

As followers of this blog already know, I wrote this fiction work during about the first six months of my five-year ordeal when I lost my job, and I tried to get it published, which during the pandemic, was even more difficult than trying to find a job.

I pretty much put the novel in my rear-view mirror, and moved on.

It wasn't completely out of my mindset, but I just put it way back in my brain.

Then a few weeks ago, I discovered another publishing house, and they seemed to be interested.

I spoke with the company president yesterday, and everything she said made sense.

She wants me to canvass my blog readers and my followers on Facebook to try to see what interest there is in the book, and thus, if we should proceed on with getting the book published.

So after speaking with her, I put up the first chapter on Facebook, and let's see how it goes.

And I am putting that first chapter up for my blog readers here to look over.

The novel.is geared toward young adult readers, and it is pretty much G-rated.

Please, let me know what you think

Here it is.

Have a great weekend, and I will speak to you again on Monday.

Rat Face

(The Strange Tale of Abraham Lincoln Panim)

1

Abraham Lincoln Panim came into this world like any other baby. He was created with love, and love is what he got as he matured in his mother’s stomach.

His mom, Diana Panim, a petite, 30-something English teacher at a local high school with perfectly styled brown hair and a bent for the latest clothing styles, wanted her child—whether it was a boy or a girl—to have a better childhood than she had.

She never knew her mother and father, and was given up for adoption at birth for reasons she never knew. She went from one foster home to another, but never had a permanent place to call home. She never believed in herself, but others did, and as she became older she had many mentors that helped guide her into adulthood.

She often said that if she ever had her own child, things would be different, much different, and now, being of child, she could prove that.

Mrs. Panim grew larger and larger as the days went into months, and her pregnancy was a normal one. Except that every once in a while, whenever she ate cheese, or anything with cheese on it or in it or related to it, she would get a swift kick from the inside of her ever-bulging tummy. Even if she viewed a piece of cheese or even thought about cheese, she would get swift kicks in her stomach that made her sick.

She loved to eat cheese, and before she was with child, she ate cheese each and every day, and remembered doing so from the earliest memories of her life to now.

“This kid is at it again,” she thought one day as she got a swift kick, “he is giving me agita even before he gets here.”

Her husband, Marcus Panim, a struggling writer who was short in stature as well as he was in prestige, and who worked at a local publishing house writing for trade books about subjects he wasn’t really interested in, shrugged off all of this.

Putting his hands on his hairless head, he would tell his wife in such instances, “He is even a strong boy even now,” presupposing the gender of their soon-to-come child. “I guarantee that he is going to be a football player, or something where he can use his strength. And I will bet that he will make plenty of money.

"And remember, we agreed that I would name him. Any boy with such strength needs a strong name.”

Mr. Panim repeatedly told his wife that he knew their child would be a boy because he had a lucky penny, flipped it in the air, and if the coin landed on heads, the child was going to be a boy, if it landed on tails, the child was going to be a girl.

It landed on heads.

Mrs. Panim continued to feel the intense kicking every time she ate cheese throughout the nine months of her pregnancy, and nothing that she did could stop it.

“Doctor, I always get this kicking in my stomach whenever I eat or smell or am near cheese,” she said to her gynecologist, Dr. Newsom, a tall, willowy sort with nicely parted hair. “It doesn’t matter if it is American cheese, Muenster cheese, Mozzarella cheese, even cream cheese ... I get kicked inside to the point where I think the baby is going to kick itself out of my stomach.”

“Then don’t eat cheese,” the doctor told her, with a broad smile on his face. “Stay away from the cheese.”

But I love cheese,” Mrs. Panim replied. “I think I have eaten some type of cheese each and every day of my life.”

“Well now, you can’t eat cheese,” the doctor responded. “NO MORE CHEESE UNTIL THAT BABY COMES OUT OF YOU.”

This made Mrs. Panim upset, but her husband tried to console her.

“So you don’t need to eat cheese anymore, at least until the boy is born,” he said, again assuming the gender of their soon-to-come child. “What is the big deal? Just don’t eat cheese for now, you can go back to it after the baby is born.”

“But I love cheese,” said told her husband. “Why does this kid kick me so hard when I eat cheese, even when I am near cheese, or even when I think of cheese?”

"He is showing you how strong he is,” her husband stated. “NO MORE CHEESE!”

Mrs. Panim accepted this declaration by her doctor and her husband, but she felt very bewildered at the notion that not only could she not eat cheese until after her baby was born, but that they baby she carried, that she helped create, would make her feel so uncomfortable when she ate a piece of cheese, any cheese.

She asked around among her friends who were either pregnant or had been pregnant about their pregnancies, and the odd occurrences they had when they were with child.

“No, not with cheese,” said a fellow female English teacher at the school where Mrs. Panim was a teacher, during lunch in the teacher’s room. “But every time I would have pickles and pasta, I would get really bad gas. I would eat them together, a nice bowl of pasta with pickle pieces all over it. I would wash it down with milk, and boy, did I get a lot of gas. But it is something I craved, so I ate it anyway.”

The other teachers around them laughed, but Mrs. Panim looked bemused as the woman went on.

“ ... heck, I could have filled up my tank with all the gas I had,” her teacher friend said, guffawing at her own joke as he sloshed a pickle into her mouth. “And every once in a while I still get a craving for milk and pasta and pickles.”

Mrs. Panim managed a weak smile, was cordial to her friend, but knew this problem was something much larger than what her fellow teacher had said to her about her own pregnancy problems. She even felt some stirrings in her stomach when she tried not to think about cheese, and true to form, as she walked back to her empty classroom in between periods, she got another swift kick, and another, and then one more, the strength of which sent her reeling to the ground in agony.

"Mrs. Panim, are you OK?” nervously asked a student who saw her fall and rushed to her side, along with dozens of other students.

With seemingly the entire student body circling Mrs. Panim, within minutes, medics soon arrived.

Mrs. Panim had completely blacked out when she fell, and was rushed to the hospital as students and teachers followed the medics and the gurney that they had placed her on right outside the front door of the school.

(More to follow. Comments and criticisms are welcome.)