A few bomb bits of the bizarre that have crossed my path since my return to the Same Old Place:
- Apparently I didn't burn up my brake pads during my largely-vertical traversal of the Appalachians; the Mazda store, happy to get me in for the 24,000-mile service less than 2000 miles late of course, I got the 21k service 400 miles early, five weeks beforehand informed me that I still had about half the original surface left. What's more, they also told me that the power-steering flush they routinely pitch at this mileage would be superfluous, and that they would not attempt to talk me into it. I attribute this to the following: (1) I'm a steady customer who takes care of his vehicle, and (2) they anticipate they'll make a ton of money at 30,000.
- I got a query from a reader regarding a late-period (that is to say, from their stint with Reprise Records) Fugs recording. I responded, and he came back with a shocker: he had first put his question to the eminent musicologist/ purveyor of wacky wax Dr. Demento, and the good Doctor had referred him to me. This is a degree of egoboo with which I am mostly unfamiliar; it's kind of like having a Linux driver you wrote for some obscure peripheral being blessed by Linus Torvalds himself. (On the other hand, at least one Playboy Playmate drops by here sort of regularly, and I know why, but it's still a shock, considering the unlikelihood of ever meeting one in real life.)
- The banking business evidently has gotten competitive enough that fees are actually coming down; the place where I bank is no longer charging me for online bill-paying, saving me $59 a year (over and above the $90 or so I was saving by not buying stamps), and they didn't tack on a further charge beyond the buck and a half I had to fork over to an ATM in Cockeysville, Maryland for a cash withdrawal from my oft-beleaguered checking account.
It may be well to remember that there exists randomness in life, sometimes enough to make things suck less than usual.
Posted at 3:00 PM to General Disinterest