While I was waiting in the doctor’s office this afternoon, I overheard a conversation between one of the receptionists and another patient.
“Ma’am, do you have your new Medicare Card?”
“This is my card.”
“No, there’s a new one that doesn’t have your Social Security number on it.”
“Oh, that. I got it and tore it up. They’re only using those for illegal immigrants who don’t have a Social Security number. I’m a citizen so I just use the real card.”
I could almost hear the receptionist rolling her eyes.
The clerk allowed as how they not only didn’t have a small red piece of mat board, but they couldn’t do round cuts. That would have to come from their supplier. The cost? Well, I’d have to buy the entire sheet of board, and then there’s the cost of cutting it and shipping it, and, oh, probably $30 or so.
My dad’s grandfather was a Scots Presbyterian domini who went to Australia to serve the convict population there. He developed a bad habit of going after reluctant converts with an axe, and they had to lock him up. As you can imagine, Daddy took a fair amount of teasing when he decided to go to seminary himself.
n Monday for the County to worry about. Now, the birds have decided to drag what’s left of the carcass onto the lawn, so they don’t have to worry about being hit by cars themselves. The deer was originally in the ditch by the mailbox, and what’s left of it is now about halfway between the road and the pond. The Squire walked out to get the mail, and said there is nothing left but the spine, the ribcage, and what looks to be most of the pelt. And, like Lazarus, it stinketh. Lovely. Just lovely.
The old Rowen and Martin’s Laugh-In show had an award they called The Flying Fickle Finger of Fate.
thisendoftheswamp 