Adventures of Chicken Man

When: Last night between 7 and 7:30 pm.

Where: Three fast food restaurants along I-70 in Kansas City.

Who: Myself and counter employees of KFC, Popeye’s and Church’s Chicken respectively.

7:02 pm, KFC

Employee: What would you like?

TD: I want a two piece meal with potatoes and gravy and I’d like one of the pieces to be a breast – I’ll pay extra if I have to.

Employee: We're out of chicken.

TD:  What do you mean?

Employee: We ran out.

TD:  Let me get this straight, you’re out of chicken?  Isn’t this a Kentucky Fried Chicken?

Employee: No, this a KFC. And we're also a Taco Bell.  How about a chicken taco or burrito?

TD: No, I'm craving fried chicken.

7:14 pm, Popeye’s

Employee: Can I take your order?

TD:  I want a two piece meal with a side of mashed potatoes and gravy and I’d like one of the pieces to be a breast. I’ll pay extra if I have to.

Employee: We’re out of chicken parts, we only have tenders.

TD: You're kidding, right?

Employee: They’re really good. No bones. I just ate one on my break.

TD: I can't believe this. No thanks. 

7:30 pm, Church’s

Employee: Can I help you?

TD: I want a two piece meal with a side of mashed potatoes and gravy and I’d like one of those pieces to be a breast. 

Employee: Do you want original or spicy?

TD: Original.

Employee: Do you want our two-piece deal? It comes with a biscuit and a medium drink.

TD: YESSSS!

Employee: OK, that’ll be $6.89. 

(Two minutes later I am handed my order on a tray. I fill my soft drink cup from the dispenser, sit down at a table in the dining area where I am the only customer, and realize I need a fork. I get up and go to the counter where the condiments, napkins and plastic utensils are kept. The bins are empty except for knives.)

TD (to employee): There aren't any forks on the counter. Could you get me one?

Employee: We’re out of forks.

TD: Okay then, a spoon.

Employee: We’re out of those too.

TD: How do you expect me to eat my mashed potatoes?

Employee: Would you like fries instead?

TD: No.

Employee: We have mac and cheese.

TD: How would I eat that? With a knife?

Employee: I’m sorry.

TD: How long have you been out of forks and spoons?

Employee: Ever since my shift started at 5. Well, now that I think about it we were out of them yesterday too.

TD: Hasn’t anyone else complained but me?

Employee: No, you’re the first. Every else goes through the drive-through.

Watson for President

I woke up planning to write something funny about last night’s presidential debate but the more I think about it, there was nothing funny about it.

In one corner we had a megalomaniacal hypocrite who has amassed a fortune by gaming the system, making undeliverable promises and spewing meaningless rhetoric to appeal to uneducated voters.

In the other we had Donald Trump.

If Clinton or Trump were running for dogcatcher, I wouldn’t vote for either of them. 

Before last night’s debate, 60 Minutes featured a story about IBM’s Watson, the super computer originally created for Jeopardy, that has amassed knowledge from millions of data sources and has the ability to come to conclusions based on that data. Among other applications, Watson’s power is being harnessed to help doctors prescribe life-extending treatments for terminal patients for whom they have run out of ideas.

Maybe we should dispense with elections altogether and, starting in 2020, install Watson as president. Watson has never talked to Access Hollywood about grabbing someone’s genitals. He doesn’t go around making speeches and collecting massive fees, telling Wall Street fat cats one thing and his supporters something different. He has never denigrated anyone because of their ethnicity nor claimed to be an advocate for victims of assault except for those assaulted by his spouse. Watson has never established a foundation that accepts contributions from George Stephanaopoulos or countries that oppress women. Watson doesn't mock the handicapped, has never defamed the families of our fallen soldiers, or set up a private server to hide his political activities. Watson is articulate. Watson inspires. Watson represents the best of what we Americans can do.

The United States has become so complicated to govern that, frankly, it may no longer be governable by mere mortals. In an age in which all of us have unlimited access to information but aren’t able to process it because we tend to get it from web sites that reflect our own prejudices – and we, like the presidential candidates, all have them –  Watson can take data from any and all sources and create policies that benefit the common good.

Watson could make decisions about social issues, free of political influence. By interpreting data from doctors, hospitals and insurance companies, Watson, better than anyone, could set up a health care system that works. Watson could devise the best possible economic policies, save us billions by eliminating duplication, and devise a tax code that moves us forward and creates jobs. Watson could analyze every battle and conflict that has ever taken place and make projections to determine the best foreign and military policy, and could recommend Supreme Court justices by analyzing their decisions as lower court judges, based on their adherence to a nuanced Constitution that takes into account how America has evolved since the original was written.

I’d certainly vote for Watson, along with a Congress comprised of Apple-based computers running on software that represents the needs of their particular districts.

Wouldn’t you?

Whatever your answer, future generations probably will.

Clarification from the Trump campaign

  

To: The Media

From: Trump Campaign Press Room

There has been a great deal of negative coverage as the result of a 2005 tape released by the Washington Post yesterday in which Donald J. Trump was recorded having a private, off-the-record conversation with Access Hollywood reporter Billy Bush (who got his job only because he's related to those turncoat scum-sucking Bushes who spawned low-energy Jeb).

In yet another attempt to discredit Mr. Trump whom, we freely admit, is not always as articulate as we wish he would be, the media has taken one particular quote out of context. What Mr. Trump was actually telling Mr. Bush is that when he sees a woman holding a young cat in her arms who is about to step out in front of an oncoming car, he grabs the cat to get her attention and thus save her life.

“I never said I was a perfect person,” Mr. Trump said last night. “I’m ready to put this behind me and am looking forward to my debate Sunday night with that lying twat Hillary Clinton.”

Go with the blow

As I write this at 11 a.m., Hurricane Matthew, a category 4 storm, is predicted to hit around dinnertime tonight. Forecasters say Matthew will either hit Florida’s east coast directly, somewhere around Palm Beach, or will hover just off it. It will then blow up the coast toward the Carolinas, packing winds in excess of 100 mph and leaving up to eight inches of rain in its wake. Though we live a mere 100 miles away, on Florida’s west coast, forecasters are calling for us to get less than an inch of rain and we have only have a 30 percent chance of experiencing hurricane force winds that last a minute or longer.

All that can change in a heartbeat of course.  

As a peninsula that extends nearly 400 miles into tropical waters, Florida is a sitting duck for storms like Matthew that typically begin off the coast of Africa, slowly churn their way west, picking up in intensity, and occasionally, by the time they arrive in the Caribbean, emerge as full fledged hurricanes rated anywhere from a “1” (sustained winds between 74 and 95 mph) to a “5” (winds in excess of 157 mph that will blow anything in your yard to Japan).

When we bought our first Southwest Florida house in 2005, the realtor proudly told us this part of the state hadn’t been in the path of a hurricane since 1960.  We were in the path of not one but four that year, including Wilma, which caused $100,000 in damage to the house we had just finished renovating. All but $5,000 of that was covered by insurance but it took six months to find workers and materials to make the repairs since there were hundreds of thousands of other homeowners in the same boat. When, at the height of the storm, Wilma blew the vents and the chimney off the roof, palm rats scurried up the side of the house and took up residence in the attic to avoid the wind and rain. By the time they were removed six months later some were the size of small raccoons.

Once the repairs were made, we sold that house and bought another, which we kept for nine hurricane-free years.

Two and a half years ago we bought our current house, which, unlike our previous homes, has storm shutters that cover the windows. Most are operated electrically. Others require a hand crank to lower and secure them. Four consist of huge, heavy pieces of corrugated plexi that screw into tracks above and below the window frames. Installation requires several people and a ladder.

Installing the plexi shutters would be a problem for me at this particular juncture because I broke my ankle last week. When people ask, I tell them I broke it helicopter skiing in the Andes but the truth is I mis-stepped on my own sidewalk. Dumb. As a result I am wearing a heavy boot to keep my ankle in place. I could hobble outside to crank the non-electric shutters but there’s no way I could get up on a ladder to install the plastic ones.

More worrisome, our yard – the main reason we bought this house – is dotted with towering palms, pines and oaks that could come crashing down onto the roof.

So, as many of my fellow Floridians are doing, I’m checking www.nhc.noaa.gov/, the website of the National Hurricane Center, every hour or so, to see if Matthew is still on his predicted track, and am crossing my fingers it won’t be necessary to install the shutters because, of all the times for a hurricane to hit, I’m kinda powerless here to do anything but go with the blow.

I feel for the millions of folks on the other coast and in the center of the state who, forecasters say, may experience the full effects of Matthew’s wrath but that’s a risk we all took when we moved to Florida and, I suppose, the price we pay for living in paradise.

An interview with Gary Johnson

As part of our ongoing series of interviews with presidential candidates, tomdryden.com today sat down with former New Mexico Governor Gary Johnson, who is running as a Libertarian.

TD: Governor, you’ve been savaged in the press lately for appearing to be somewhat out-of-it. You said you weren't familiar with Aleppo, the Syrian city where U.S.-backed forces are battling ISIS, and a few days ago when Chris Matthews asked you to name a foreign leader you admired, you couldn’t think of one. So let’s start off easy. Who do you admire most? Doesn’t have to be a world leader. It can be anyone.

GJ: Cheech and … oh, God, what is that guy's name? It's right on the tip of my tongue. You know, Cheech’s partner. I had all their albums in college. They made that movie, Up in Smoke. I must've seen it fifty times. Cheech and … Cheech and … damn, I can’t think of his name!

TD: Chong?

GJ: Yes, Cheech and Chong. I admire them.

TD: OK. Moving on, congratulations on being endorsed today by the Chicago Tribune.

GJ: Who did you say endorsed me?

TD: The Chicago Tribune.

GJ: What’s that?

TD: A newspaper.

GJ: No, the word before that.

TD: Chicago?

GJ: Yeah, that. What is it?

TD: A city in Illinois. The Tribune’s editorial board called you a "principled alternative to Trump and Clinton."

GJ: An alternative to what?

TD: Trump and Clinton.

GJ: Never heard of them.

TD: They’re running for … never mind. Have you ever stopped to consider that, if you win in November, you’ll become the third Johnson president?

GJ: I thought every president had a Johnson.

TD: You’d be the third president with the last name of Johnson.

GJ: Is that so? Who were the other two?

TD: Andrew and Lyndon.

GJ: Third, huh? Must be a common name or something.

TD: If you’re elected, what’s the first thing you’d do?

GJ: I’d issue an executive order legalizing marijuana. There’s nothing more important to America’s future.

TD: Thank you Governor and, I can’t believe I’m saying this but, having considered your opponents, you have my vote. 

GJ: Thanks, Tim!

TD: It's Tom. 

Presidential quotes for today

We have nothing to fear but somebody that weighs 400 pounds and is sitting on their bed.  -- Franklin D. Roosevelt

Four score and seven years ago, somebody that weighs 400 pounds and is sitting on their bed brought forth upon this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. -- Abraham Lincoln

Ask not what somebody that weighs 400 pounds and is sitting on their bed can do for you, ask what you can do for somebody that weighs 400 pounds and is sitting on their bed. -- John F. Kennedy

Only if you have been in the deepest valley can you know how magnificent it is to be somebody that weighs 400 pounds and is sitting on their bed atop the highest mountain. -- Richard Nixon

I did not have sex with somebody that weighs 400 pounds and is sitting on their bed. -- Bill Clinton

It is not the critic who counts. The credit belongs to somebody that weighs 400 pounds and is sitting on their bed whose face is marred by the dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly…who at worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat. -- Theodore Roosevelt

Somebody that weighs 400 pounds and is sitting on their bed always thinks that he is doing God’s service when he is violating all his laws.  -- John Adams

If tyranny and oppression come to this land, it will be in the guise of somebody that weighs 400 pounds and is sitting on their bed. -- James Madison

Live simply, love generously, care deeply, speak kindly and leave the rest to somebody that weighs 400 pounds and is sitting on their bed. -- Ronald Reagan

If your actions inspire somebody that weighs 400 pounds and is sitting on their bed to dream more, do more, learn more and become more, you are a leader. -- John Q. Adams

It is amazing what somebody that weighs 400 pounds and is sitting on their bed can accomplish if you do not think about who gets the credit. -- Harry Truman


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Diner conversation

Time: 6:30 pm Sunday.

Location: The booth opposite ours in a fifties-themed diner. 

Cast of characters: A forty-something waitress, a sixty-ish woman and a much older man whose walker is parked next to the booth.

* * *

Waitress: Are you ready to order?  

Woman: I am but my father here needs a little more time.

Waitress: No rush, I’ll be back in a minute.

Woman (to father, who is thumbing through a multi-page menu): 

Dad, it’s a diner, you can get just about anything you want. Meat loaf, chicken, fish, a nice steak, a burger, you can even have breakfast. Would you like some scrambled eggs and bacon? Or some pancakes?

Old man (flipping through the menu): This menu’s too damn big.  

Woman: They even have liver and onions, your favorite. 

Old man: I don't want it.

Woman: Well, what sounds good?

Old man: Nothing. I’m not hungry. Why did you bring me here when I’m not hungry?

Woman: I thought you might enjoy getting out, eating something different, spending some time together.

Old man: Well I’m not enjoying it. You order for me.

Waitress: Have you decided?

Woman: I’ll have the grilled grouper.

Waitress: What kind of dressing on your salad?

Woman: Balsamic vinaigrette.  

Waitress (to man): And you, sir?

Old man (indicating his daughter): Ask her.

Woman (to her father): Well, dad, if you aren’t hungry, how about a bowl of soup? (To waitress:) What kind of soup do you have?

Waitress: Tonight’s special is tomato rice. We also have chicken noodle.

Old man: Bring me the chicken noodle but I don’t want any noodles in it.

Waitress: No problem. I’ll ladle it up myself then I'll go through it and remove the noodles.

(Twenty minutes later)

Waitress: Is everything OK?

Woman: Yes, thank you.

Waitress (to old man): And how’s your chicken noodle soup? 

Old man: There aren’t any noodles in it.

Woman (to man, gently): Dad, you said you didn’t want the noodles. This nice lady went through your soup and took them all out.

Man: Why would I say that?

Woman: I don’t know.

Man: Well, you heard me wrong. What kind of restaurant serves chicken noodle soup and leaves out the noodles?

Woman: I’m sorry, he’s not usually like this.

Man: I don’t get it. You’re selling chicken noodle soup with no noodles.

Woman (to waitress, sounding exhausted): Actually, yes he is.

Waitress (sympathetically): That’s okay, I understand.

Man: I’ve had chicken noodle soup on every goddamn continent and I’ve never once been served chicken noodle soup without noodles.

Woman (to waitress): I’m so sorry.

Waitress: No problem, I’ll be back with your check in a minute.

Man: You don’t expect me to pay for this soup do you?

Waitress: No sir, there will be no charge. I’m sorry you didn’t like it.

Man: Well, it wasn't half bad. Except there weren't any noodles in it.

Welcome to Medicare!

Dear Boomer:

You’ve outlasted Dick & Jane, the USSR, disco, the mullet and America's space program. Here is your reward – your Medicare card. 

On the first day of the month in which you turn 65, you will be enrolled automatically in Medicare Part A, which will pay the costs of future hospital stays and will even pick up the tab for nursing home stays (while recovering from medical procedures) and hospice care (in case you don't). You will no longer have to pay out-of-pocket for these services except for certain deductibles plus Part B co-insurance and deductibles provided you enroll in Part B which, unlike Part A, will cost you money.

Part B, which is optional, covers doctor visits, lab tests, medical equipment and some preventative services that aren’t covered by Part A less certain deductibles and co-insurance payments for which you will be responsible. If you wish to enroll in Part B, do what Congress has done for the last six years – nothing. If you do not wish to enroll in Part B, please return the enclosed form no later than the tenth day after the fourth month during which you become eligible for Part A.

You may also be eligible for a Medicare Advantage Plan, which includes Parts A and B and sometimes D (see below). The Advantage Plan may, in some cases, offer certain advantages over regular Medicare Parts A and B which is why it’s called the Advantage Plan.

In addition to Medicare Parts A & B and/or the Medicare Advantage Plan, there is a wide range of supplemental plans available through multiple insurance companies. These plans include:

Part C: Covers your Part A and Part B deductibles and co-insurance amounts plus medical emergencies while traveling in foreign countries like Albania or Alabama provided you haven’t been out of the United States for more than 60 consecutive days which isn't a good idea for someone your age in the first place.

Part D: Covers your Part A deductible and co-insurance amounts as well as your Part B co-insurance but not your Part B deductibles and pays certain other expenses. 

Part E: Remember the time you and your high school buds heard a friend’s parents were out of town and he was throwing a huge party at his house with weed and a keg and when you showed up at the front door you were greeted by his father who informed you, “There is no party?” Well, it's deja vu all over again because ... there is no Part E. There must have been at one time because there’s a Part D (see above) and Part F (see below) and E comes between those letters in the alphabet but we couldn’t find out what it was.

Part F: Pays for all the deductibles not covered by Parts A, B, C, and D except for certain deductibles.

Part F+: Pays for everything Part F covers except there is a high deductible which means you’re paying a deductible so you won’t have to pay deductibles.

Special K Plan: Covers 100% of Part B coinsurance except $20 for doctor visits and $50 for ER visits provided you eat Special K at least five times per week.  

Plan M: Pays mental health-related costs (including hospitalization) for those who have been driven insane trying to decipher all the various plans.

Plan N: Covers 100% of Part B co-insurance plus stays in a skilled nursing facility.

Plan R: Covers Part B co-insurance costs for stays in an unskilled nursing facility.

Plan X: Includes all the above Parts and a lifetime membership to Larry Flynt Hustler Clubs nationwide.

Drug plans: These plans cover prescription drugs seniors like you need so you can play bingo, golf or whatever it is you people do all day. Plans are available through a number of insurance companies. Call your insurance agent or enroll online at www.medicare/gov.

In closing, I want to set the record straight about a rumor you may have heard. Some politicians – mainly Republicans whose party didn’t vote for Medicare in the first place, something we hope you will remember on election day – have claimed that Medicare will be completely bankrupt by 2024. Please be assured there is no truth to this rumor. We have enough funds to pay claims through 2025.

Should you have any questions, please visit www.medicare/gov, your local Social Security office or ask anyone you see driving a Buick in the passing lane at 40 mph with the turn signal blink-blink-blinking what plan(s) he or she chose.

Sincerely,

Sylvia Matthews Burrell

Secretary, Health & Human Services

The Grandpa memo

We got home last night from the Outer Banks where we spent a week with our sons, Ben and Stuart, daughter-in-law Heidi, grandsons Teddy and Isaac, and Stuart’s donkey-size dog, Topanga, a Great Pyrenees/ greyhound mix.

The beaches were beautiful. The weather was perfect. We played endless games of Scrabble. But the main attraction, as far as my wife and I are concerned, were the grandsons.

Isaac, who turns six months old today, is at that awkward age somewhere between newborn and toddler. He can’t talk, barely babbles, hasn’t yet learned to crawl, and his head bobbles crazily when you hold his dimpled hands to help him stand on your lap. He eats heartily and often, as is evidenced by cheeks a Campbell’s kid would kill for, multiple chins, and thighs that resemble both in size and fat content the Hormel pork tenderloins you see in the supermarket meat case. He jams one fist – sometimes both – into his mouth and drools a lot because (we’re almost sure) he’s teething. He can, however, roll over and has learned to make his baby bouncer bounce by kicking his legs up and down. He has started smiling and, when his brother throws a ball or does something else he finds amusing, he giggles. 

Teddy, who turned 30 months old yesterday, is a pint-sized dynamo. Make that a “half pint-sized” dynamo. He is downright tiny for his age – just 24 pounds compared to 17 for Isaac who, if he continues growing at this rate, will outweigh Teddy by the time he’s 10 months old. Teddy was a preemie, is allergic to dairy products so his menu is severely limited, and does everything within his power to avoid eating. My wife thinks his aversion to food is because there were tubes down his throat during his first three weeks of life which were spent in a neo-natal intensive care unit, so he associates anything he has to swallow with pain. She may be onto something there. God knows his parents have tried everything to convince him to eat.

Teddy's huge personality more than makes up for his small stature. He knows how to work a room to make sure he’s always the center of attention, charming everyone in the process. His vocabulary is enormous – almost scary big for someone his age – but he, as all toddlers do when learning to talk, makes grammatical mistakes. He has trouble with the words "am," "are" and "is" which he sometimes uses incorrectly or omits altogether. He also hasn’t quite mastered the pronoun “I” which he often turns into a possessive, pronouncing it “I’s.”  For example, “I am watching tv" might come out “I watching tv” or, more frequently,“I’s watching tv.”

Early one morning his dad staggered into the living room carrying Teddy, who was wearing his Mickey Mouse pajamas. Ben looked exhausted. “Do you want to go back to bed?” I asked, thinking I could watch Teddy while his hard-working dad caught some much needed shut-eye. Teddy, assuming I was speaking to him, replied emphatically, “No! I’s just woke up!”

Walking alongside the wagon in which he was being pulled back to the rental house after an afternoon at the beach, I asked Teddy if he had had a good time. “Grandpa,” he replied with a look of concern, indicating his arms, legs and swimming trunks, “I’s sandy.”

One day Teddy was wearing a horizontally striped blue and white shirt. “You look like a little French boy,” Stuart told him. “I’s not a French boy,” Teddy said defensively. “Yes you are,” Stuart teased. “French boys wear shirts like that.” When I walked into the room a moment later Teddy announced with as much enthusiasm as if he had just been notified he had won the lottery, “Grandpa, I a French boy!”

As we were leaving Sunday, I asked Teddy to give me a hug which he did – Teddy is generous with hugs. “You’re a good boy,” I told him, holding him tight, knowing I won’t be seeing him for months. “You’re a smart boy.”

He pushed back from my embrace, looked me square in the eye, and reminded me of something else he is that someone had obviously told him but I had failed to mention. “I’s a handsome boy, too!”

I spent my adult life concerned about providing what I thought my family needed. I obsessed about my career, spent nights and weekends at the office when I should have been home and worried about acquiring and taking care of possessions that, I now realize, have no value. Being a grandpa was never on my bucket list. I figured it might happen one of these days and assumed that if and when it did I’d find the kid(s) amusing but that I couldn’t possibly be more than minimally invested emotionally because, after all, there’s only so much love a heart can hold and mine, I was certain, had already been topped off years before.

Nobody ever warned me that, the moment I beheld my first grandchild, my jaded old heart would instantly sprout another chamber and be filled with an altogether different kind of love that, in its own way, is as intense and profound as anything I’ve ever experienced.

I’s so glad I didn’t get that memo because the overwhelming surprise and wonder of it all is the joy of my old age.