Category: Random Thoughts

Close-Outs

Close-outs are really just sales.
I know this from looking at the items.
Some are successes, most are fails.

Close-out really means “selling off stock”.
As in, we won’t make any more of these.
They’re on the chopping block

Sometimes, however, these items
Have your name imprinted.
They’re called personalized items.

This seems just a bit far-fetched.
There is a plant somewhere in China,
Making items with “Kevin Gilhooly” etched.

“Maybe it’s today he’ll finally call”,
All the Chinese workers silently pray,
“He’ll go online or visit at the mall.”

I hope they’re not making pencils just for me,
Hundreds of them inscribed with my name,
In a huge factory across the sea.

That’s what a close-out would be,
“We’re not printing “Kevin Gilhooly” any more,
All the pencils we have is all we foresee“.

I hope that someone shares my name,
There was one in Houston years ago,
So maybe there’s another Kevin once again.

Then, the pencils are his problem.

The Attic

The attic was a magical place,
Where all of your past was stored.
If you didn’t want to toss it,
Up to the attic it went.

Of course, in some regions,
It was down to the basement, instead.
It depends on where you live.

Then again, if you’re scared to go in the attic,
Or you don’t have a basement,
You might use the garage.

I fear I’m getting off track.

Now, everything is going digital.
So, photos and albums aren’t in the attic.
They’re on your hard drive.
Hopefully.

If you don’t have a good filing system,
And I certainly don’t,
Then, your hard drive is a magical place.
You never know what you might find.

As long as you don’t find love letters
From someone who’s not in your house,
There is no telling what you share.

I found our late budgie’s first record.
Well, it’s not really a record,
It’s just a bunch of MP3s.
Still, it’s more than I ever recorded.

So, look around your hard drive.
You never know what you may find.
I hope it’s magical.

—————————-

Here’s Basil’s first record, for your listening pleasure. He didn’t write particularly long songs, but then again, he was a budgie.

Time is Relative

An hour is always sixty minutes,
But the minutes seem to be different lengths.
I’m sure there’s a logical explanation,
But if there is physics involved, I’m lost.

Consider these scenarios:
There’s an hour before you leave for work.
Whoosh! Where did that hour go?
There’s an hour before you leave for home.
Tick. Tick. Tick. Freakin’ Tick. Tick. Tick.

So, this is probably a relativity issue,
But as I said, physics is not my forte.
I know e = mc^2 but that’s energy and mass.
Why didn’t Einstein work on something critical?

So, I would say pm = am * pa^2, as in
Your perceived minutes are
Actual minutes times potential annoyance, squared.
As potential annoyance approaches infinity,
Your time will stand still.

This has been tested in various meetings at work,
And by listening to people talk about their vacations.
I didn’t test by having someone talk about religion,
Because I didn’t have the time.

6-4-3

We spend a lot of time
Dwelling on the offense.
Who’s close to a thousand yards?
Who’s got the highest slugging average?

Offense scores points, and points win games.
So, naturally, we get obsessed.
This is wrong.

Sometimes, we should look at the other side.
Defense may seem boring at first.
All it does is prevent points.

However, preventing points helps win, too.
Just ask companies that cut costs
Instead of raising sales.

Some defense can win games.
Say, a double play in the ninth.
You’re out! You’re out, too!

It’s even more beautiful than a home run.
Maybe because there are more people involved.
A home run slugger stands alone.
A double play requires teamwork.

Hot Potato

This sounds like a wonderful project!
I’m sure that it will work out splendidly.
In fact, I know just the person to help you with it.

He’s not available at the moment,
But I know he will be happy to jump on it.
I will send you his email with an intro,
So you should feel free to call him anytime.

I will just get out of the way now,
Since I don’t want to impede your progress.
This sounds like a critical project,
So I want the right people on it.

I’m glad I could help!

Conference Calls

A conference call is a lonely place. 
Since it’s all on the phone, 
Not face to face. 

At least you can do other crap.
While this may sound rude, 
It’s more useful than a nap.

You can’t just drop the line,
Since there will be a beep,
And that’s an obvious sign.

You should put your phone on mute.
In case you loudly snore, 
Or play the flute. 

Just listen for your name,
Always be ready to reply, 
Or you will get the blame. 

Baseball

Twenty-seven outs per team.
It’s what you do between them,
That’s what matters.

I appreciate a sport that has
A playbook that says,
“Hit it where they ain’t”.

At our local minor league park,
The umpires’ introductions?
Sponsored by the Lions Club.
(Go Google what they do. It’s hilarious.)

Baseball is a sport anyone can play,
And statisticians all adore.
Someday, I will write a thesis
On the linear relationship
Between beer and runs batted in.

The fans’ beer at the game or the team’s beer from the night before.
I assume one would be
An inverse relationship.

Baseball is.
Baseball was.
Baseball shall be.
The rest is horseshit.

 

Thanks, Joseph!

He’s Dead, Jim

“He’s dead, Jim”.

A doctor’s final diagnosis.
A catch-phrase of sorts. 
Another reminder not to
Wear red in space. 

Death is much easier on TV
Than in real life.
On TV, “He’s dead, Jim”
Then, a commercial.
Or the next scene.

In real life, it’s more complex.
Funerals, wills, codicils. 
You find out who your friends are.
You spend inordinate amounts of time
On minutia. 

I think it was much easier on TV.
It certainly was cleaner. 
Also, the Enterprise only had a five-year mission.
If they went through probate every time
Bones said “He’s dead, Jim”, 
It would have been a much longer series.