You Know Where a Man Can Get Some Help?

The other day I was coming out of the library when I ran into a guy who asked me where a man might get some help. He began by telling me a story about a guy (him) who got thrown out of his apartment. He actually whipped out a piece of paper certifying that he had been thrown out of his apartment, but I was in a hurry and I said, "You need some money?" and he said, "Can you help me?" and I said "Probably - lemme see what I got" and I sorted through a moderate wad of cash and pulled out a five.

I handed him the five and he said, "Actually I need $7" and I said, "That's all I can spare," so he took it and left walking pretty fast. I was right behind him because I had to get somewhere, and then I thought, "I don't wanna freak this guy out, like I'm following him, so I switched to the other side of the street, but he had just switched to the other side of the street too and therefore I was right behind him again, and I ended up chasing him up the hill, with him looking nervously behind him. It was getting pretty intense, then he broke off to the left and it was a huge sigh of relief for both of us.

The next day I was walking down the street and I ran into the same guy and I said hi and he said, "You know where a man might get some help?" and I said, "Nope," not to be a wiseguy but rather I just didn't have any dough to spare.

Boomers and Buttheads

January 19, 2020

This weekend has been a low-key one, as it's been pretty freaking cold and windy out, thus a certain laidbackness has been in play whether I like it or not. In fact, whether I like it or not has been the overall theme.

On Saturday I made a trek to Walgreen's to pick up a prescription that I had previously gotten closer to home but which got transferred to the new place because the old place had been shut down. Previously there had been no charge for the Rx, but at the new place there was a charge of 60 cents. But what for?

A youngster was behind the register - let's call him a Millennium just for fun - and I asked what the 60 cents was for. He peered at the receipt and looked something up and said, "Looks like it's some kind of deductible." I said, "Well, that's kind of odd because there was no charge at all at the last place." He says, "Well, just look at it like this: You saved $47.50 because your insurance covered that." The implication was I *could* have been charged $47.50, so what the heck was I griping about, Fool?" (The kid didn't seem to be overtly nasty about it, so I threw in the supposed "fool" on my own. Maybe it was a Trigger Point for me, as they say.)

Well, I thought about that, and I figured there some generational thing going on. To us old Boomers it's somewhat of a big deal - or at least a biggish deal - to all-of-a sudden have to pay SIXTY CENTS more for something that used to be free. Didn't this kid know that? Well, no, he did not. And you know why? Because this Butthead did not have the Boomer's perspective. And why not? Because he had the Millennial perspective, which is he was thinking, "How long will I have to keep this stupid, stultifying job where I have to listen to these old boomers jabber about 60 cents?" When I am I gonna get those damn student loans paid off??" In contrast a fellow Boomer would commiserate and say, "Sixty cents? Jesus Christ, those Big Pharma bastards are *always" trying to get more out of us! Sons a bitches oughta be *shot*!" Now, with a little generational education, those Millennials and other younger generations could interact with the older generations and learn to say. "Son of bitch Big Pharma! etc." I would gladly hand over sixty cents - maybe even a DOLLAR - to make it a feel-good experience. Until that time, the Millennial ceases to be a human being and instead becomes a Butthead.

You see how that works? To put the icing on my thoughts and to develop the overarching theme, I had another encounter right after the one at Walgreen's: I went to get a 40 at a gas station, and I went to the counter with the bottle. I was hoping they wouldn't force me to take my purchase in a separate non-disposable bag, as I already had a non-disposable bag to dispose of from Walgreen's, and this place always made me take another bag of theirs, as a non-varying Policy - the same kind of Policy we Boomers have faced all our freaking lives. But the cashier was an older guy, nearly my age, so I asked, "Can I just stick that in my (environmentally responsible) bag?" Well, son of a gun, this wonderful guy, a fellow Boomer for sure, replies, "Sure, man, a bag's a bag." He must not have imbibed the policy yet, and hopefully he never will.

Down south, at one time, it was the Hatfields and the McCoys. Back in my hometown, it was the Murphys and the Hjerpes (JER-PEAS). Nowadays, everywhere, it's the Boomers and the Buttheads.

To come: People who tell you you'll take it and like it versus those who say, "Aw man, lemme help you with that."

"So if you see a neighbor carrying something, help him with his load, and don't go mistaking Paradise, for that home across the road."

https://youtu.be/f5ZFNkZwx_0?list=PLBvqbYh1QjTStMmURpUqp5XRaOWuh05bV