Seniors by the sea: in which Fred Meyer honors the hell out of my citizenship, too

Gobias Industries lives! For the second week in a row, I made it to the Fred Meyer in Brookings for Senior Day, i.e., free coffee day. They’re serious enough about it that the baristas at the Starbucks stand actually tell customers not to buy their coffee but to go over to the table in the lobby for free coffee instead.

The Bureau of Prisons has a weekly coffee hour at many of its facilities, but that doesn’t extend into Tuuuues-day Aaaaafff-ternoon. Zoom-Zoom Day For the Ancient of Days is some cool shit. Freddy’s angle here, of course, is to hoover up the honored money of honored citizens. They give the elders a discount on whatever-the-hell and in exchange Kroger becomes a regular sugar baby of the Social Security Administration and TIAA-CREF. And probably of the other Schwab, too.

The money and the cash that Freddy thus welcomes is traditionally known as “a fixed income.” Point of clarification: what in hell does that even mean? I don’t have anything like a fixed income from hustling deposit bottles, since I don’t know from trash can to trash can or roadside to roadside whether there will be a bottle worth hustling, and I average less doing this than Social Security will even consider paying out, notwithstanding the option of nothing at all. Conversely, Monty Robinson was on a fixed income from 2008 to 2012. This was because the RCMP brass got tired of paying him to serve as a corporal on account of the Dziekanski and Hutchinson oopsies, so it decided to pay him not to serve as a corporal instead. One effect of this pretirement was that he was kept out of the promotional pool for sergeants. The bosses finally got Sauce Boss to drop out for good by bothering him with summonses to disciplinary proceedings and threats of something along the lines of a dishonorable discharge. #ExcommunicateToDeactivate, I guess. The RCMP is reported to have a much larger pool of less fucked up female officers chilling out indefinitely on paid internal disability because that’s easier than resolving their sexual harassment complaints against colleagues, often corporals (hey!), and somehow convincing the force’s bothersome cockhounds to put their dicks away during work hours.

Why should Jamie Davis and his road dogs up on the Coq pay this lying drunk and these other erstwhile horse friends to sit on ass for a living? Why should everyone in the shop gang up on Jamie’s stepson for being some kind of incorrigible failure to launch because his heart and skillset aren’t in the towing business? Why do I watch so much television? In order, because the RCMP is a hot mess for an agency with such goofy dress gear, because manly shit and being on television gives some men a cheap excuse to be assholes and to congregate with their kind, and because it’s on.

That’s some of the shit that goes down in private-sector broadcasting. In the public sector, parallel to Jian Ghomeshi, Kwesi Millington sued the CBC for exposing him to embarrassment and ridicule. I guess I check in on these buddies’ internet reputations for a reason, because there’s some damn bizarre shit about them and it’s hard to keep it all straight. The idea of a Millingtonian embarrassment that is not self-inflicted is pretty farfetched, and it’s absolutely ridiculous to argue that the CBC, a Canadian news organization, had a responsibility not to make him look bad just because he’d needlessly killed a man in the line of duty as an RCMP constable and then conspired with the rest of his squad to cover the incident up. Or, as Northside Juice prefers to put it, the individual was unfortunately killed during the incident, or something like that. That’s one abyss that stares back from all kinds of weird angles like that Charles Cullen-looking trooper from Ron Johnson’s hot summer of nightshift press conferences, so I but glance into it. Yeah, the Communicate to Create guy argued that the CBC had embarrassed him and exposed him to ridicule. I ridicule him more than the CBC ever will–so much, in fact, that I often forget to canucksploit the likes of Colonel Underpants, which is a bit unfortunate–but I’m a random failson with a few thousand in an IRA somewhere, not Canada’s premier Crown Corporation.

Big Electric must have been in it for the royalties to his own story. He probably got some expensive, overqualified in-house lawyer to mutter, “oh, shit,” pay him and his attorneys a lump sum to fuck off with the nonsense, and then wonder what the hell he was doing with his career, getting mixed up in an extortion racket by a butthurt, nationally disgraced Mountie and opposing counsel of equally embarrassing professional ethics.

I want my, I want my, I want my CBC.

Incidentally, the RCMP is unusually crude and arbitrary in its determinations of who gets to be a jackoff on the company dime and who doesn’t. There are plenty of organizations, public and private alike, that quietly allow any number of wankers to screw around to no end for political reasons, or sometimes for legitimate ethical ones. One of the drivers who towed my car last week works for a mom-and-pop outfit that was operating without a mechanic for the time being because the mechanic had gotten into woman trouble with his estranged wife and wandered off on a bad drunk. Other organizations let the useless or worse-than-useless bleed them because they’re flattering, fucking, or blackmailing someone. The RCMP seems to actually make its cops work until something unfortunate happens, at which time it starts paying them to stay home for years straight either because they’re dangerous disgraces or because they’re less of a nuisance as private drunks with mental health problems than they would be hanging around the detachment, expressing inconvenient truths about crappy officers that some lieutenant doesn’t feel like disciplining.

No, I ain’t eating out of dem shine ricebowl. That free coffee, though. By the way, hear that, Erskine? I fulfilled an aspect of the Millennial Pledge by not spending twenty dollars on coffee today. Maybe we can expand the Free Shit program to include housing and medical care for the asking. Hook a cracker up.

I also listened to the Boomer jawboning regulars at a nearby table discuss Christianity as orthodoxy to the exclusion of Christianity as orthropraxy. Now, that’s strong Americanism if ever there was such a thing. One of these guys complained about government regulations strangling jobs and stuff. It’s probably something he heard on Fox. Sure. Government regulations like making employers remit Social Security deductions and maybe try not to kill the help in industrial accidents. As it happens, the Wild Rivers Coast depends on a much tamer river of state and federal funding for its operations. A crowd like that usually has a problem with Mama Sugar until it’s time to discreetly snuggle up for a suck. At that point, it’s all like, bitch where my milk at?

But, yeah, strangling the economy and the jobs. I agree, Big Ears Teddy shouldn’t have to see that. The rest of us shouldn’t have to hear about it, either. It’s sorry horseshit that gets in the way of quartermastering for the Free Shit Army. Pretty much everyone bitching about the FSA is on high-volume gibs, too, which they got by not shutting up until someone delivered the goods. The meek aren’t about to inherit any of that.

Coffee: gobias some, why don’tcha.

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