Sis and I had lunch today at Woody’s Sports Tavern. I mentioned them before in my Favorite Sandwiches post, and honored them with the #1 position on my list of favorites.

Of course, that’s what I had today. My check is below - check it out. Take your time, I’ll wait.

Notice anything flaky about this bill?

I realize that things have changed since the days when we had to chisel our arithmetic homework onto granite slabs, but I’d be willing to bet that $9.50 + $0.74 = $10.24, and not $10.43.

Being somewhat attached to whatever money Uncle Sam and his cronies see fit to leave me after I pay my taxes, I questioned the server about the apparent error on my bill. It turns out that Woody’s has recently started adding a 2% fuel surcharge to all their bills, to cover the additional costs they incur from their food vendors, who are charging them a fuel surcharge.

On the surface, I have no problem with that. I understand that all cost increases are passed along to the consumer - that’s Econ. 101 at it’s finest. What I do have a problem with is them not printing it on the bill. They seem to be operating under the fallacy that their customers can’t handle simple arithmetic, and will never notice that the bill doesn’t add up.

And what really frosted my cookies was that as I was leaving to come back to work, I saw the owner’s (identified by it’s WOODY’S #1 license plate) Cadillac Escalade parked in the lot. Exactly whose fuel costs is the surcharge covering?

At least, that’s what the doctors keep telling me.  Actually, they haven’t gone so far as to say “nothing”… but they’re completely flummoxed as to what IS wrong with me.

Here’s the deal.  Beginning on my daughter’s birthday (April 11), I noticed that my left foot was swollen.  Really, really swollen.  Which was kind of bizarre, because it didn’t hurt.  I couldn’t remember having injured it in any way.  But there it was, swelled so that my ankle spilled over the top of my shoe.  So, I took myself to the Doc-In-A-Box.  Since then I’ve also been to an internist, a vascular specialist, and the ER.  I’ve spent a fortune on co-pays.  I’ve been prescribed two different diuretics in three different strengths.  It’s been six weeks now. Here’s what I DON’T have:

I don’t have congestive heart disease; blood clots; or vascular blockages from plaque, cholesterol, or other sources.  The problem is not coronary, pulmonary, or vascular.  I don’t have diabetes.  My thyroid gland is working perfectly, as are my kidneys and my liver.  In fact, if you look at my bloodwork, you would call me extraordinarily healthy.  Everything is “within normal limits”.

Well, everything except my feet are blown up like freakish balloons.  My boss has described them as “cartoon feet”.  They look like they belong to Fred Flintstone.  The swelling actually goes about 2/3 up my calf.  Once upon a time I had nice legs.  I’ve even been told that I had exceptionally nice legs.  Now, I have “cankles“.  EWWW!  And the skin is sore from being stretched.

I have a follow-up appointment with my internist on the 28th.  Maybe he’ll have some fresh ideas.

Mostly Cajun has put up an exceptional post on the state of marriage today.  Although the title is Gay Marriage, the logic applies to everyone.  I highly recommend you read it - twice.

John McCain, Hillary Clinton, and Barak Obama were walking down a Washington D.C. street when they came upon a homeless person.

The Republican, John McCain, gave the homeless person his business card and told him to come to his office for a job. He then took $20 out of his pocket and gave it to the homeless person.

Hillary was very impressed. When they came upon another homeless person she decided to help. She walked over to the homeless person and gave him directions to the welfare office. She then reached into John McCain’s pocket and got out $20. She kept $15 for her administrative fees and gave the homeless person $5.

When they came upon yet another homeless person Barak told the homeless person to ‘have hope…change is coming…’ and gave him nothing.

Now do you understand the difference?

… couldn’t it be a Reagan Clone?  Does it have to be a clone of Jimmy Carter?

Jeffrey Lord, in yesterday’s “Political Hay”, points out that

With all of the sweep of American history to look back on, with virtual libraries of history recording what works and what doesn’t when running the American government, Obama has stunningly selected the Carter policies as his role model.

In the article titled Jimmy Carter’s Second Term, Lord asks

Is it possible that America really wants to return to those depressing days of gas lines and leisure suits? Of malaise and shock over the aggressiveness of America’s enemies? The days when the policies Obama is advocating raised unemployment rates, interest rates and inflation rates into the double digits? When America’s enemies looked the President of the United States in the eye — and found he really wanted to kiss them on the cheek?

From taxing “windfall profits” to downsizing the military, from attacking the 3-martini-lunch to raising the tax on Social Security benefits, Obama is a Carter clone.  And the last person we need in the White House.

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Enough said.

I don’t get over to visit The Poor Farm as often as I’d like, but whenever I do I find something enlightening and/or entertaining to make it worth the trip.

For example: I know you’ve heard about the “food crisis” and how we’re all gonna’ starve to death if we persist in this folly of using food for fuel. Jeffro, who is the Head Honcho on the Farm, would beg to differ. He’s written an insightful essay on all the reasons that the stories we hear ain’t necessarily so. It bears reading and careful consideration.

My daughter sent me a picture of her unit that she said I could share … as edited.

She has it made as the only girl in the group - she gets her own private quarters, facilities, etc. I’m sure there’s a downside, too; but she doesn’t complain much so I don’t know what it is.

She’s third from the end on the front row - the one with the rifle on her knee. I still don’t understand why she shoots lefty; she’s NOT left-handed.

As you may or may not know, half of my family (my mother’s side) is from Canada. So they want to know:

We in Canada cannot figure out why you are even bothering to hold an election in the USA.

On one side, you have a bitch who is a lawyer, married to a lawyer . . . and a lawyer who is married to a bitch who is a lawyer.

On the other side, you have a war hero married to a good looking woman with big tits who owns a beer distributorship.

Is there a contest here?”