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Titanic Brass Polish, inc. quarterly report:
As many of you know, TBP,inc., recently sold its brass polish division to Johnson's Wax.

(please, no jokes about waxing your Johnsons)

As CEO, i've taken some hits on social media for 'selling out'.

And i deserve them. Johnson's Wax is a dubious historical enterprise...right up there with Johnson's and Johnson's and Howard Johnson's.
Or even Lyndon Johnson.

However, before you judge me harshly, know that the decision was motivated by compassion toward a 61 year old man whom had a dream...a dream of sailing from Seattle to NZ, with a crew of decrepit losers, also holding onto one last shot at glory.

Make a wish foundation stuff.

Yes, this might mean that your dividend checks will be small for a while...but rest assured, TBP,inc., has several subsidiaries which are involved in some exciting, new, cutting edge social engineering programs..aimed at an aging population.

In the follow up post, i'd like to describe one of them..."Anti-sex trafficking".
I really look forward to these TBP news letters! Smile
You can lead 'em to knowledge, but you can't make 'em think.
Glad to hear that, sparky.
Because this job opportunity could be right up your alley.

A bit of background:

Mary has a friend that is lonely. Like so many lonely women, her husband died a few years ago. Good guy; my age; builder; testicular cancer. Ouch.

Anyway, she calls a lot. Mary doesn't really want to hang out with her...but Mary is a nice person. Hence, she went to her house today, for lunch. There was no gun against her head. She could have made up another lie instead. So, yeah...there is sort-of a gun against our heads in some of these cases.

Hopefully, we're all old enough to have someone in our lives that fits this bill...a lonely person that use to be more self-contained...before their spouse died and the kids stopped calling on Sunday.

I have a male friend whose wife died tragically, a few years ago. He's a fellow builder. Decent bloke. He tends to visit about every 2 months; unannounced. When i see him pull up, my heart sinks a bit.
Because i know he'll be here for a few hours, minimum.
And even though i like him, he's not a brilliant conversationalist.

I'm not ready to label the phenomena as 'emotional blackmail'.

In the next post, i'll cut to the chase, regarding this new enterprise.

For now, think of it as an escort service...specifically not about sex.
Been that road.  Emotional blackmail and all that.  I think I've met your less than brilliant conversationalist too.

Lemme tell ya about Ronnie.   I need to unload about Ronnie, I'm not over the stitch up yet and he's been dead for years.

My city uncle had a brainfart that he'd do the rounds of the family branches we'd lost touch with.  Off he went tracking down cousins he hadn't even known existed except by word of mouth from other suddenly discovered cousins.

(I knew about most of them as I remembered the family tree as depicted from listening in on the women's gossip over my lifetime.  But that genetic gossip seems to be confined to the females of the family so he was totatlly clueless.)

He found the one that no one who knew about him ever really wanted found.  Even his own brother and sister had 'lost' him.

It wasn't because he was a bad man.  On the contrary he was the least dangerous type due to the fact that he lacked the imagination to be bad.

His claim to fame was the unchallenged title of most boring man on Earth!

Ronnie was found to be living in the very town they (my uncles) all grew up in.  The searcher had forgotten Ronnie but my older uncle,  who still lived in the vicinity hadn't.  He tried to forget him but couldn't.
To say he was unhappy when younger brother announced he had 'found' Ronnie would be inadequate to the reaction.  

"Christ, I hope you didn't give that prick my address!!"
Even Cuz was appalled at the notion of Ronnie being back in the picture.
Ronnie had literally thrown Cuz out into the street from the cinema when he was a small boy.  No love lost there!

Younger uncle was then appraised of the reasons Ronnie had been allowed to remain 'forgotten'.

His father was the black sheep of the family.  His old man was ethically challenged.
 He started his adult career as a card carrying member of the Communist Party, which got his brother, my grandfather, sacked from the mine just on the association.

He went on making "trubble in the mines" as the saying goes until he caught the eye of the daughter of one of the wealthiest landowners in the district (he was a very good looking rooster, like a 20s movie star) so he then married her, dumped the Commos and set forth on his new life in a limo and living with the lords of the manor.

He never deigned to even speak to my grandfather as he drove past him.  No conscience about how hard he'd made life for his brother at all.  
So he produced 2 sons and a daughter from the town snob and then, the universe yanked the rug and he just died young.

At around that same time, so did the rich old father in law and left the daughter with the money but no idea how to run the farm or how to budget.  So she sold the farm/s and moved into town to play the great lady over the poor women in town.

Needless to say this didn't make her kids popular and they grew up a bit 'strange'.   Including Ronnie who became totally obsessed with Hollywood.
The cinema was his church .. (there's an Italian movie called Cinema Paradiso, which reminded me very much of Ronnie's story)
He saw every movie, and knew the life and career history of everybody in them.  

The first and only job I'm aware that he ever held was at the local cinema.  Sweeping the floors, then moving up to the ladder to eventually managing it, and when TV came in he was running the entire show single handed. 

His wife left him for someone with an income and personality and took his 2 daughters with her.  He lived alone with his movie memorabilia collection from then on.

To be fair Ronnie did have two subjects that could converse about.  Anything pertaining to Hollywood, and his state of health.

Believe me, Hollywood was the much preferred option!!

So the state of play when younger uncle 'found' Ronnie was that he was pretty much avoided by the entire town and all of his relatives.

My family held it against him that his father had made life hell for them as kids due to Granddad having to find work away from town to support them.  And the rest of the town held his mother's snotty attitude against him.   Also his 'fascist' management of the cinema.  He was worse than the local priest about who could worship in this church of flickerings.

Younger uncle was too young to remember the reasons,  but his older brother wasn't, and Mum hated him and his siblings because of the way his mother snubbed and ignored her mother ... girl thing.

"The sins of the parents" descended on Ronnie.
But the over arching reason was that Ronnie was sooooo bloody booooring!

Younger uncle discovered that for himself when his enthusiasm for 'finding' a cousin became an exercise in mind numbing boredom so what do you think he did?

He unloaded Ronnie onto me!

Gave him my phone number, brought him to my place to meet me, then dumped him!

I was in the next town so I'd get a call from Ronnie about some doctor's appointment in Newcastle and could I drive him to the station to catch the train, or pick him up on the way back or any excuse to find an ear to unload on.

The only thing Ronnie had going for him was his Hollywood memorabilia collection.  It was astounding!

You could barely squeeze into his house between the piles of it. 
The house was scrupulously clean, it was just stacked solid with books, cases of old film, cabinets full of correspondence, posters, theatre sets, costumes and christ knows what else.

It was a full museum squeezed into a 2 bedroom house.  There was even stuff in the kitchen!  It must have been worth a friggin' fortune!!  

He even had the original working scripts of Frankenstein, complete with notes made by the director,  and some other scripts of note from that era.

I hope his daughters appreciated what that collection was worth when he was shunted off to a nursing home and that they didn't just chuck it out as junk!   I still dribble a bit thinking about the stuff he had in that house.

But the visits!  oh sweet jeeeezuz, those visits!  Endless detail of every single aspect of whatever ailed him that week right down to the amount of urine involved and the efficiency of his bowels.  

Came a day when he phoned to ask if I could put him up for a few hours until he could catch the late arvo train home. Someone had driven him as far as my town but he would have to wait hours for the train.
"We can have lunch together" ..year riiiight, now wouldn't that be a buzz.  I could enjoy a detailed rundown on his latest colonoscopy with a sanger and coffee.   Confused Sad

He was going to be there most of the day!!  Noooooo.  So I picked him up and drove him home!  Better an hour in the car than hours in the house.  

Next time he rang I was ready with the tale that the car was in for reps,  or that Mum had taken ill and I'd be with her all day or whatever. 
I'd spent the last 20 years acting as taxi service and all round nurse for Mum and a few of her doddering pals and wasn't about to take on another one!

A couple of months later his daughter finally arrived to assess his 'health' and shoved him into a nursing home in Newcastle and that was the end of Ronnie.

But it wasn't the end of the shellacking I gave Younger uncle over ever inflicting the boring bastard on me at all!

What pisses me off most is feeling guilty that I didn't do more for Ronnie when I shouldn't have been put in the position of needing to do anything at all.  His 2 daughters did fuck all, so how did it become my problem?

bloody relatives!!!

...anyway,  feel free to label it emotional blackmail Stanky, it's a real thing and I've suffered from it too damned often!

...sorry 'bout the novella.   Blush   but I needed to vent the last of Ronnie.  Smile
Heyzuess christie, Di!

That was Dickinsonian.

Lots of pathos; guilt; annoyance; family; etc.

(I knew i could count on you.)

what a sad tale.

I feel squirmy even discussing it.

One blessing i've possibly had in this life is that i'm not real boring. Honestly, you'd be hard pressed to find anyone in my life that would categorize me as such. It's my version of being rich or good looking or useful. At least I'm not boring....

But what if i am? Or, headed that way? Christ, that would be devastating to my ego.
The equivalent of the above types losing their looks or their fortune.

I would want to be taken out.

As i type these words, i'm forced to wonder if i'm being a bore right now??!!

I could probably write several long posts, explaining the minutia of my concerns in this matter.


That sounds like a solid idea.

(Btw, i should mention the chronic oozing pustule i often mention here. It seems to be clearing up! The volume of pus exudation, according to my copious charts and novel measuring apparatus will verify this...acknowledging the anecdotal nature of the data and incorporating the effects of confirmation bias.)


Now i forget what i wanted to tell sparky about this cool new employment opportunity.

It's basically a service that will intercept the various Ronnie's in our lives.

A two hour appointment should bring $100.

Pretending to be a good listener is the main skill requirement.

I feel so dirty now.
Quote:Pretending to be a good listener is the main skill requirement.


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