FINAL NOTICE!!!!

Attention every retailer ever:  Odds are good that I didn’t “forget” to take your email survey  


People are just trying to get a little feedback, Jeremy.  No need to get in a twist.


If all I got was a simple request for feedback, I would have no issue with it.  My problems are, as usual, deep-seeded and complicated.

So, not long ago I made a purchase online.  I do this from time to time, as do most people who frequent the internets.  Shortly after my product arrived, which to the supplier's credit, arrived on time and entirely intact, I received an email from that supplier asking me to take an online survey about my shopping experience.

I completely ignored it.  

To be fair, my shopping experience was entirely acceptable.  I just don't want to fill out online surveys about online shopping experiences.

Shortly thereafter, I received an email reminding me that my survey was waiting for me.  The expectation being that I had always wanted to take this online survey, and the only reason that I hadn't done so yet was that this important part of my life had accidentally slipped my mind, and I forgot to do it.  Therefore, I needed a reminder.

About a week later, I got a second reminder (which said "Second Reminder" in the email subject) about my anxiously waiting online survey.  I still have no intention of ever filling out this annoying online survey about my shopping experience, although my shopping experience is now being worsened by the fact that I get annoying reminder emails to take an online survey because of it.

I am at least a little curious about what is included in the online survey now.  It's probably a biased survey which is skewed towards provide positive feedback anyway (ie: "How well would you say we provided _____" using the positive connotation "well" in the question itself), but I'll never know.

I would like to think that this is an isolated incident, but sadly, I know this is not the case.  This exact scenario happens to me rather frequently, and I'm well on my way to another one as I type this.  (Remember that rental car upgrade I stole last week?  Well, I got an online survey about my car renting experience...you can just guess if I'm going to fill that out)  I'm entirely certain I can look forward to more online surveys and emails "reminding" me to fill them out because I "forgot" to the last time they emailed me about it.  The smart money is on me "forgetting" again.  

I would be tempted to fill out their online surveys if I could send them my own online survey to provide their feedback on me as a customer.  Then I could send them annoying reminder emails to fill it out since they'll probably "forget" just like I did. 

I'll Allow Two Weeks To Transition

Why is it a pair of pants, but only one shirt?  


Here we go...Jeremy's pondering again.


Well, it makes no sense.  Things need to make sense.

So, today's status obviously deals with semantics when it comes to articles of clothing...


That all depends on what you mean by "semantics..."


People tend to refer to certain clothing in singular terms, but others in plural, and I don't always know why.  I mean, some of them are pretty obvious, like a pair of socks, or a pair of shoes, in which there are two entirely separate pieces of clothing that come in a matched set, and you tend to wear both of them at the same time.  Gloves fall into this category as well.

But, when you talk about pants (and for the sake of today's discussion, we'll be dealing with the American definition of pants, and not the British version, but the same concept applies), they are most often referred to in the plural.  As in: This is my favorite pair of pants.  Why is this?  There is only one article of clothing. 

Pants and shirts are fairly similar clothes in concept.  They each are designed to cover a segment of a body's core, and two extremities.  The the case of a shirt, it covers your torso and two arms versus pants, which clothe the pelvic bum area and two legs. 


Can people please start using the phrase "Pelvic bum area" now?  


So I don't really understand where the semantic difference comes from that would lead you to need a pair of pants, when it is a single garment, versus a single shirt.  Sure, you have a pair of pant legs, but you also have a pair of shirt sleeves and nobody says "I'm going to wear this pair of shirts" when talking about one piece of clothing.


Can we at least say that this debate you're having with yourself is pants?


No, because that would be using the British version, which we already discounted.  Also, that's the slang usage anyway.

At this point, I'm not sure which side of the debate to fall on, but I would like us, as a society, to settle on a single usage for the sake of consistency.  We either need to refer to shirts as plural, or pants as singular.  So get used to it, folks...you will either need to start wearing a shirt and pant, or a pair of pants with your favorite shirts.  It's the only way. 

Better Than "Rotted Driftwood" I guess

Even the rental cars are bigger in Texas  


Welcome back, Jeremy.  How was your trip?  


It was a real hootenanny.


In case you're wondering, Jeremy has been on a business trip to Texas for the last little while.  Nobody there used the word hootenanny.  


All of that is true, and at least half of that is entirely depressing.


And Jeremy stole a car, so that's a thing...


I did nothing of the sort!  I provided myself a free upgrade. 

So, when you fly into one of the largest airports in the country and need to rent a car, there really needs to be an efficient system in place for that sort of thing, since the folks there are dealing with a significantly higher than average volume of people looking for rental cars.  Such was the case at the airport I flew into at the start of my trip.  The efficient system that has been developed at that particular airport is to place all of the rental cars in a large parking garage, leaving the keys inside, and directing the customers to simply walk to an area of the garage designated for their tier of reserved car.  The customer then picks out whichever car they want from that area, and customer service agents scan the barcodes and such on the way out.  This is all well and good. 

I was directed to the "Gold" section of the garage, which is where the small-to-mid-range levels of cars that I'm allowed to rent are parked.  Seems like a bit of a misnomer, since there would have to be like...platinum, ruby, emerald, diamond, and depleted uranium levels to cover all of the upgrades I'm not allowed to have which would ostensibly be placed above "Gold" but that's neither here nor there.  I find that the Gold section takes up the entirety of two rows of cars, most of which are totally reasonable mid-sized cars.  I select one and stick my head in the door to retrieve the keys, only to be immediately gassed out by the remains of voluminous cigarette smoke.  I promptly close the door and move across the aisle to another car of the same make, but that I recognized as a higher-tiered model.  The inside smelled fine. 

After verifying at least three times that this car was indeed parked in a "Gold" space in the "Gold" aisle, I place my stuff in the trunk and make for the exit.  The attendant scans my license to look up my reservation, and immediately looks confused.  He asks if I got the car from "Gold" and I pointed to the row where it was parked, even informing him of the parking space number I found it in.  He goes back to his computer and remains confused.  He comes back and asks if I located the car in some form of "special prestige reserved" section or some crap...I once again explain that it was in the "Gold" row, once again pointing to the row and space where the car had been located.  He returns to his computer.  He comes back and says, "This wasn't in a special prestige reserved space?  It was Gold?  It was reserved for somebody else."  I explain for a third time that the car was parked in space number 502, which is the third space in the Gold row, that it was parked next to that silver one right over there (pointing), and asked if I should return it there and pick out a new one.  The guy says it's okay, that he'll change the other person's reservation to a different car, and that I was all set. 

So, at the end of the trip, I get my receipt from the rental car company, and sure enough.  My reservation was for a "C" class car (which, apparently "C" stands for "Gold" and the system goes to F at the very least...I don't get it), and the receipt says that I rented an "F" class car.  I don't know what the frig F stands for, but it's clearly better than C.  I was charged the C class rate, since that's what I reserved, so I got a free upgrade!  I also find myself entirely convinced that Gold is highly undervalued in the lexicon of this particular rental car company. 

Geographically, or Chronologically

Are Strawberry Hill, Blueberry Hill, and Solsbury Hill all near other?  

I would guess not.  Fats Domino and the Red House Painters were both American, but Peter Gabriel was British.  I would assume they draw from different inspirations.  

So, today's Status deals with three vastly different songs.  

First off is the entirely depressing Alternative Rock song "Strawberry Hill" by Red House Painters.  The song's lyrics make reference to California, so we can reasonably safely say that the hill lies there.

Moving on to Solsbury Hill, and this one's a little easier.  The song is about a spiritual journey of some sort to the top of the aforementioned hill, which is near Bath in England.  Peter Gabriel would often walk on that hill, which partially gave inspiration to the song.  Gabriel himself was going on a spiritual journey of his own at the time, having just begun his solo music career after being in Genesis.  

Finally, Blueberry Hill...where one is said to find their thrill.  The song's lyrics were originally written by Larry Stock and Ed Lewis and many many versions of it were recorded.  Probably the most famous version is that made by Fats Domino in 1956.  While everybody seems to know where to find their thrill, nobody seems to actually know where that might be.  There are at least 16 different acknowledged Blueberry Hills in the United States, across 7 states.  None of which are confirmed to be the location of said thrills.  The best advice I can give you is that if you're looking for your thrill, find one of the Blueberry Hills, start climbing, and hope for the best. 

I Need Answers!

We never really got a lot of backstory on Molly Malone


Didn't she marry that Sam guy on the TV show with the bar?  


Wrong Malone.

So anyway, today's Status refers to the Irish folk song "Molly Malone."  You've all heard it, regardless of how Irish you are outside of March 17th.  It's the one which goes "Alive alive Oh!  Alive alive Oh!  Cockles and Mussels alive Oh!"  From the song, which is something of an unofficial anthem of Dublin and has even resulted in an aesthetically questionable bronze status of the fictional heroine, we know that Molly was a fishmonger, presumably following in her parents' footsteps.

Aside from that and the fact that Molly died of "a fever," and it's implied that this occurred while Molly was still fairly young, we know pretty much jack squat about the girl.

For example, career-wise it is established that both of her parents were also fishmongers, each with their own barrow for wheeling around the aforementioned cockles and mussels.  Did Molly grow up wanting to be a fishmonger as well, or did she have other designs for life and fell back on this as a career?  Did she inherit one of her parents' barrows, if so which one, and if not, where are the two other barrows?  Did she have to apprentice as a fishmonger in order to afford her own barrow?  Did she sell any actual fish?  Both cockles and mussels are types of molluscs, and not technically classified as "fish."  From what we know for certain, Molly is better described as a "shellfishmonger," though that is admittedly more difficult to work into song.  We also don't know how good of a shellfishmonger she was.  Her level of success at peddling cockles and mussels is completely unknown, which leads to some concern if a lack of salesmanship led to a destitute living and thus her health problems. 

Molly's personal life is also a complete unknown.  All we know about her we learn from some unnamed lyrical narrator who first saw her wheeling around her barrow in Dublin.  We're told she was a sweet girl, which certainly is to her credit, but can we rely on the narrator's judgement?  We don't know what the narrator's relation to Molly was.  Was he a distant relative who had never seen her until she was a shellfishmonger, a stranger passing by on the street, or a potential suitor?  Given the fact that the narrator seems to have known Molly for some amount of time (from when he first sees her selling shellfish from a barrow until after she dies of a fever...I would assume this takes a few weeks at a minimum), I think we can discount the passing stranger theory.  Given that the narrator specifically points out that girls in Dublin are "so pretty" and still singles out Molly, I would argue that the narrator is a potential suitor for Molly, though his or her amount of success in pursuing a relationship with Molly is never revealed.  Along those lines, we don't actually know if Molly is pretty.  Dublin girls apparently are, but Molly is only ever described as "sweet."  I'll give her the benefit of the doubt and say that at least the narrator found her particularly attractive.

Did Molly Malone ever meet Rosie McCann?   Sure, the River Bann is pretty far north of Dublin, but either of the two may have traveled and crossed paths at some point.


You may want to do a quick search for "The Star of the County Down" to understand that joke. 


Was Molly happy in the life she chose or had chosen for her?  I think we'd all like to believe that until Molly contracted her fever (and even that's not really well laid out), Molly was perfectly content pushing around her barrow crying "Cockles and Mussels Alive, Alive Oh!"

Until somebody makes a movie about her, I don't think we'll ever really know for sure. 

SO TINY!!!!

Can confirm: a baby goat falling over a cooler is both funny and adorable  


Baby animals tend to be adorable.  Watching them fall over stuff is pretty entertaining as well.  Disney devoted a not-unsubstantial amount of time to a baby deer falling on ice.  Similar situation here, I would imagine.  Was there ice in the cooler?  


I actually have no idea what was in the cooler.  It wasn't relevant at the time.

What's important is that I had occasion to be on something of a farm not long ago.  It was a nice day, and...well...there were reasons to be on or near a farm.  Upon arriving at the farm, one very important thing became entirely clear.  This articular farm had baby goats!  Here's one of them:

The baby goat, we were told, were only a few weeks old, so they were adorably tiny, as you can plainly see. 

What you may not be able to ascertain from the picture is that they were also adorably clumsy.  Having just recently figured out feet, the goats were able to walk and scamper around, but were not at entirely full capacity in the movement department.  One of them decided to jump over a small cooler that was on the ground for reasons that only a baby goat would understand. 

The baby goat failed at this rather miserably. 

See, baby goat hooves don't get a lot of traction on cooler plastic, so the goat was never quite able to find purchase on top of the cooler, so his (or her, I really don't know) feet went all out from under him and he ended up sliding off the end of the cooler to faceplant on the ground. 

Fortunately for everyone, the baby goat was none the worse for the wear, and he got right back to his feet and scampered off to do other baby goat things.  Also fortunately for me, I got to watch the whole thing and get a little laugh out of the poor baby goat whose pride was the only thing hurt before he got scooped up and put in his little baby goat pen.  That's where I got the picture, but he wasn't signing autographs because...you know...he's a goat.