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Last gas(p).

December 22, 2012 /

The nozzle on the gas pump is supposed to click off when the tank is full. That’s so you don’t just keep pumping until the fuel starts spewing back out at’cha. (That’s also why there is a big black rubber stopper-looking-thing on the nozzle. To protect people from the spewing gasoline, after they kept pumping into a full tank.)

Here’s the thing. Sometimes the super-magic sensor that makes the nozzle shut off doesn’t work exactly right. Sometimes, it snaps off and you are standing there with the suddenly silent nozzle in your hand thinking:

Wow! This big V-8 engine cruiser is getting some great mileage. Only took $18 to fill it up!

The van hasn’t had a working fuel gauge in years. The way to tell the tank is full is to stand at the pump, nozzle in hand, and keeping filling until it stops. Then, during subsequent drives, it is imperative to keep in mind the approximate number of days or miles since that last fillup. In other words – it’s a shot in the dark thing.

Oops.

That $18 fillup the other day, wasn’t. I’m guessing the nozzle just quit because it wanted to play a little game with me, and I fell for it.

The engine died twice on the drive to the shop this morning. Thankfully, the van is also forgiving in that area. It allows you to restart twice and continue an indeterminate distance after each stop, before the final, nonnegotiable gasp for fuel leaves you stranded. It was my good fortune that – right after the van died in the intersection of Kenosha and Elm (I mean, right in the middle of the intersection!) – I was able to restart and pull into the QT.

There, I pumped more than $50 into the tank before the nozzle snapped off the flow.

It wasn’t the super-magic sensor that stopped the pump this time.

It was my wallet.

Mine eyes have seen the gory. Eh… glory.

December 17, 2012 /

What the heck?

That was my first thought, before I did the double-take. I was looking at a headline. Looking at it – which is different than reading. Used to be, I could glance at headlines or chapter headers or billboards and take in the entire content at once. Well. That ability has slipped away, apparently.

Here is what I thought I read.

CHINESE SPACECRAFT FLIES BY AUSTRALIAN TOURISTS

Now, that’s a headline worthy of the National Enquirer, enough of a grabber to rationalize buying the scandal sheet.

After my second look-over, I realized my eyes had tricked me. It actually said:

Chinese Spacecraft Flies by Asteroid Toutatis.

Not nearly as interesting, but it makes more sense – at least to astronomers and gazers at the heavens. I have no idea whether flying by ol’ Toutatis is a significant accomplishment or even a good thing.

I also have no idea why my eyes have starting converting words out of my regular vocabulary into phrases more comfortable. It’s sort of like those rogue spell-checker correctors that makes changes to your text messages without you realizing it.

So far, I haven’t thrown myself under any buses as a result of these innocent mis-readings, but undoubtedly one is in store down the road.

In the meantime, my brain is hoping to hire a scout leader.

Oops. Make that – proof reader.

Jenni Rivera

December 10, 2012 /

It seems as though music stars are at a much higher risk than the rest of us, after boarding an airplane. As far back as the big band era’s Glenn Miller, who went down on a flight from England to France in December 1944, entertainers have had their lives cut tragically short in aviation accidents.

Singer Don McLean honored the memory of singer Buddy Holly and others who died when the small plane carrying them to their next performance crashed in Iowa in 1959.

The rock era lost Stevie Ray Vaughn, most of the band Lynard Skynard, and Jim Croce in airplane accidents.

Jenni Rivera is the latest.

I was surprised to see a mention on the 10pm local newscasts, assuming the Latina singer would not be recognized by the general US populace. She no doubt would have been in the coming year, having signed a deal with ABC to star in a situation comedy.

She told an interviewer a couple of years ago that she wanted to be the Latina Oprah. She had a reality show and a satellite radio show. She toured extensively and was among the biggest selling of the Spanish language artists.

Rivera was born in California and favored Banda and other border-music styles that she delivered in a powerful voice that made her a superstar with over twelve CDs to her credit. She struggled with marriage difficulties and life crises, and her acknowledgement through her songs endeared her to fans on both sides of the border.

She was the first to sell out back-to-back concerts in Los Angeles’ Nokia Theater, singing to packed houses in 2010.

They called her the Diva of Banda, and from that sprang Divina cosmetics, Divina Realty, and Divina Music, to go along with Jenni Jeans, Jenni Rivera fragrance and the Jenni Rivera Love Foundation that aided unwed mothers.

Saturday night, after finishing a concert in Monterrey, Mexico, Jenni Rivera finished a press conference and boarded a charter Learjet to travel to her next concert near Mexico City. Ten minutes into the flight, traffic controllers lost contact. The wreckage was found Sunday scattered over an area the length of several football fields.

She was 43 years old, but could have been much older for all the life she experienced in that time.

Another tragic loss for the music world.

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