The Poker Machine of Life…

They say you can’t take it with you.
Wanna bet?!!
Insurance companies have found a way.
They call it Funeral Insurance.
And guess what.
There’s no medical involved!!
You’re guaranteed acceptance!!??
All you have to do is pay them money now.
So that after you die, they will will give your family a teeny weeny portion of it back.
Because if you don’t your family will suffer Funeral Shock and despise your memory forever.

Just a couple of questions.
If you fritter away the family’s inheritance insuring the Funeral Director against Loss of Earnings, isn’t it a Bad Thing?
Is anything that happens after you die your concern anyway?
I once knew a man who left detailed instructions about the conduct of his funeral in his will. Trust me, it doesn’t work. The heirs couldn’t get permission to drive his vintage Ford Prefect into the grave with him, so they gave up and spent all his money on the wake.
Did he care?
Did it ruin his Afterlife Experience?
Who the hell knows.
When you’re dead you’re dead.
Insure your Life. Not your Death.
There’s a difference.
And if you really think the Funeral Director won’t wait for his cut until after Probate is granted, leave your body to science.
They pay for everything.
Even a memorial Plaque.

Supermarkets.

For some reason I don’t understand our local Coles has taken out those cattle-pen style entry points that herd customers into single file when they want to go into the shop!
The entrance to the shop is now wide and generous. First time I walked through I understood completely just how mean and unwelcoming the usual entry points are.
I’d forgotten what it felt like to be a valued customer in a big store, instead of a potential thief.
It felt good.
But on balance I hardly think they deserve a medal.
I reckon the moral high ground always belonged to us. They’ve just managed to temporarily convince us it belongs to them.

Thanks to Square Enix and its Final Fantasy game series for the Tonberry. The cutest little ambivelant villian ever!

‘Hey doll! Says here that before anyone knew the world was round people thought they could fall off the edge if they weren’t looking where they were going.’ The Tonberry’s eyes were round and steady. He stared down at Doll from the couch arm, like a baby who’s detected the lemonade icy pole on top of someone’s fridge.
‘That so?’ The Doll looked up. ‘Well it sure looks flat to me … the world I mean. And how do you know anyway? A tiny little guy in a hood with a tiny toy chef’s knife stuck to your hand?’
‘Not me. Some optometrist named Galileo said it was round.’ Tonberry knew how to deal with irrelevant interruptions. ‘Then another genius backed him up. Maths teacher called Isaac Newton. He came along and found out how to prove there was Gravity and suddenly everyone knew it wasn’t God but Mechanics and the mystery was solved.
He sighed. ‘Seems they’re all glued to the surface of the earth man; just like flies on flypaper. And that’s not all. The moon’s joined to it by tractor beam as well, because there’s this weak force called Gravity that lurks somewhere in the centre of the earth and it’s got everything by the balls man.’
The Doll looked thoughtful. Then she looked up. ‘Okay then if gravity’s so weak how come you don’t float off your perch?’
‘That’s because of Einstein man.’ Tonberry sounded more confident than he had a right to be she thought. Considering he was balancing on one limb of a settee. ‘The heavier you are the more you get screwed by gravity. It’s like cosmic judo. Uses yer own weight against you in a fight.’
‘She raised an eyebrow at him. ‘So then, yer reckon it’s Gravity that’d make my butt look big in boyleg jeans if I had any butt?’ She considered the problem further. ‘Also if I had any boylegs. Well awesome. I knew it wouldn’t be me man.’
‘Don’t reckon it’d be Gravity either. It’s probably something to do with mirrors. Some guy covered that too. Back when they invented the telescope. They call it light refraction.’
Doll looked superior. ‘Yeah that’s what mirrors do. Reflect stuff.’
‘Not reflection,’ The Tonberry was becoming didactic. ‘Refraction. It means light gets bent out of shape so things look skinnier and longer than they really are.’
‘Let me get this straight my friend. You’re saying there are mirrors out there that could make me look longer?!’
Tonberry swivelled his chef’s knife. ‘Maybe.’ He said cautiously. ‘Depends on what you call longer.’
‘Dude! Elegance is elegance. I want one. Get me one.’
‘But it’s just a mirror. It makes you look that way. Doesn’t mean it’s real.’
She opened her eyes very wide. ‘Real’s relative,’ she informed him.
‘To what?’
‘To you and me, little guy. To you and me.’

Dictionary Duck

Still practicing.  Well I’m just a Digital Tourist.

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