The Day I Chose Camping Over Cable

All right, I think it's time to call some bullshit here.

According to Harold Camping, a 90-year-old Christian radio broadcaster, the rapture was supposed to have occurred on October 21, 2011. Mr. Camping, who has a BS in Civil engineering to go along with his "BS" in prophecy, was wrong. I was actually worried when I got up that morning. I had a repair appointment scheduled with my cable service to fix my Internet connection. The company gave me a two-hour window for their arrival. Are they kidding?! I've had repair and delivery people miss four-hour windows. I know hell's a comin' before those guys show up on time, so I'm thinking, "The Rapture's coming and I'm not ready. I'm fucked." So for two hours I'm in my backyard looking toward the heavens, waiting for a bright light to split the sky open accompanied by a blast of trumpets and a choir of angels. But then Eric-the-cable-guy showed up with half an hour to spare, fixed my high-speed Internet connection, and saved my life. Thanks, Eric.

Clearly my choice of being prepared for Christ’s arrival 

over the cable guy’s arrival was as wrong

as it was awkward.

Mr. Camping, aside from being as old as he was wrong - which is very - seems to be having trouble in his role as an End-of-Days Prophet. His October 21, 2011, prediction came on the heels of his previously errant prediction of May, 21, 2011, which itself came after his wrong September 6, 1994, prediction, which followed his off the mark September 21, 1988, call. Talk about crying wolf. He's essentially running around yelling fire-and-brimstone in our crowded Earthly theater. His poor judgment of the Lord's Judgment is doing nothing more than add to the confusion and turmoil that already exists in my life. Thus, on October 21, I didn't know whether to run like a Sodomite or sit tight and risk getting the ultimate bitch slap from the Big Right Hand.

Editorial Note: For clarification, Sodomite, being capitalized in the previous paragraph, refers to a resident of Sodom during the time of their destructive Judgment. When it's not capitalized, it refers to a person who engages in that specific sexual practice you perverts thought I was referring to.

You see, I don't know everything. For the things I don't know, I rely on the guidance of so-called experts. For example, I'm not a geologist or an economist. But if someone who claims to be able to interpret ground fault stress or see a downward financial trend warns the world of an impending earthquake or recommends stuffing money in mason jars, I'm going to brace myself a little. In the same way, not being a religious person, I look to those educated in all things biblical in order to be prepared for ethereal events, such as a possible tribulation. That said, I took a look back to analyze where my focus should have been under the circumstances I faced on October 21 with the hope that the next time Mr. Camping or some other Prophet calls "All aboard!" I won't get caught with my pants down again.

God's service: To clear my conscience every week, I'd have to sit in a booth in a church and divulge my sins to a messenger of God before asking for forgiveness.
Cable service: To clear my conscience every week, I'd stay home and Ctrl+Shift+H, Delete.
Advantage: Cable. Why leave the house with a dirty soul?

God's service: The Bible.
Cable service: The eBible.
Advantage: Cable, but only if I download the Direct Verse Jump option. Otherwise, it's a push.

God's service: A couple of hours once a week in a place of worship getting preached to.
Cable service: The Trinity Broadcasting Network, having His word brought to me every minute of every day.
Advantage: God. Nobody needs to get preached to 24/7, especially in HD.

God's service: Praying for enlightenment.
Cable service: Search engines.
Advantage: Cable. It's easier on the knees.

God's service: The Tribulation can take seven years with no knowledge of when it will begin.
Cable service: A service window can be two to four hours on a specific date.
Advantage: God. Two to four hours can fuck up my whole day. At least I can plan around seven years. 

God's service: The Holy Trinity.
Cable service: Comcast Triple Play. 
Advantage: Cable. Father, Son and Holy Spirit doesn't beat father, son and a Center Ice package.

God's service: Historically, payments to the church, or tithes, are roughly 10% of a person's earned income.
Cable service: Payments to a cable provider are tiered based on levels of service and premium channels.
Advantage: God. Tithes are tax deductible, so that's one way to write off the church without feeling guilty.

The results were close, but it confirms that I should have gone with cable over God. That's not to say I'd have cast Him aside completely had I known beforehand. After all, I would have needed someone to talk to while I waited for that service window to close.

A World Without Jobs

There is no doubt anyone who is everyone, to some extent, will be impacted by the loss of jobs.

I mean Jobs.

As in Steve Jobs.

Before getting labeled as uncaring or cold hearted or jealously poor, let me say I have sympathy for Mr. Jobs’ family and those closest to him for their loss. He is an American business icon – or iCon – who contributed greatly to transforming the way we distract ourselves in how we live, work and drive. Steve Jobs’ contributions to society as a whole are on par with some of the most noted visionaries the modern world has ever known. It would be insensitive of me to mock his death.

But not necessarily insensitive of me to mock some of those who mourn him.

An Apple worshiper genuflects before

entering the iTemple in Los Gatos, CA.

I’m not talking about his peers or Apple’s employees, who certainly have the right to celebrate or castigate him. Or Apple’s stockholders, many of whom likely suffered a portfolian, oh-shit stroke as they flashed back to 1985. I’m talking about the average person who felt compelled to turn their local Apple Store into a memorial by dropping a bouquet or lighting a candle in his honor before going inside to spend $400 on a 64-gig phone that’s probably going to be upgraded and outdated by the time they figure out how to use it. I’m talking about people who will mark his passing by making an emotional pilgrimage to Cupertino, CA, to view the center of the universe as they know it, the core of the Apple, as it were.

Did You Know: Cupertino owes its earliest mention in recorded history to the expedition led by the Spanish explorer, Captain Juan Bautista de Anza, who was on his way to San Francisco to establish a presidio but took a wrong turn after his cell signal dropped and his navigation app failed.

I caught news of a guy who took time off from work to take his 3- or 4-year-old on a drive-by of the corporate complex like it was a national monument. There were reports of groups of people, iPhones in hand with arms raised high, holding candlelight app vigils. A mourner expressed regret that Jobs had not lived to see even closer links between humans and their devices. Hell, there are people who have closer links to their phones than they do to their kids. There are people who suffer separation anxiety having to shut down their iGadgets on airplanes. Folks have the ability to pleasure themselves in public with something in the palm of their hand that won't require them to register as a sex offender. How much closer to your device do you want to be?

I found it amazing seeing people update their Facebook statuses to tell everyone how they are “connected” to Steve Jobs like it’s a Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon game. Really? You went to the same schools he did? Lived in the same city? Jesus, does your family know how close you were? “Hey, kids, Steve Jobs and I drove down this same street once. He was three cars ahead of me, but we stopped at this same intersection waiting for this same light to change.” The kids either a) don’t care because they don’t know who Steve Jobs is, or b) aren't listening because they have earbuds implanted into their heads with one of many of shut-out-the-parent apps running. I have one big degree of separation from Steve Jobs. It’s called my bank account. 

Hardcore fanboys can join the current movement to create a Steve Jobs Day. There's a website that encourages you to look like him. Put on that black turtleneck (sales of $175 black turtlenecks have doubled since his death), and for full legacy-perpetuating effect, throw on your blue jeans and slip on your tennis shoes. Then update your picture on Facebook or change your Twitter profile photo with you as Steve. Don't forget to leave a comment about how he has affected your life, or how you want your kid to grow up to be just like him. Yeah, well, you can have your kid look like Steve Jobs, but to actually be like Steve Jobs? No, what you actually want is for your kid to be rich and famous like Steve, because the odds are when your kid tells you they're dropping out of college like Steve, he or she will have a better chance pushing a broom at a place like Apple than running one.

While his death is sad, I can't bring myself to shed a tear over it. Music didn't stop when John Lennon died, lights have lasted much longer than Edison, and if there wasn't an Alexander Graham Bell there wouldn't be a need today for no-call lists. And all of them, like Steve Jobs, piggybacked on the accomplishments of others...and others will ride into the future on his. I don’t think of Jobs as the company as much as he was the face of the company. Sure, he was a founder, but there comes a point when success allows you to place certain burdens on the shoulders of others. Disney eventually cut back on drawing the art when he was able to hire artists to color his dreams for him. Likewise, I don’t think Mr. Jobs spent a whole lot of time soldering circuits.

Others may wish to remember him over their iPhones, iMacs and iPods, or set up impromptu, sidewalk sticky note mosaics. If I'm to celebrate Mr. Jobs, it will be for how he exemplified for me the "iDeal" of a true American Dream...making millions sitting around thinking shit up and having others do the work.

Dam Shame

The San Francisco Bay Area gets 85% of its drinking water from Hetch Hetchy reservoir. The reservoir, which is fed by the Tuolomne River and surrounding watershed, is 8 miles long and holds up to 117 billion gallons of water. The reservoir was created when the O’Shaughnessy Dam was completed in 1938. Beginning with the purity of its origins in the snow-capped wilderness peaks of the Sierra and accumulating throughout a 459 square mile protected watershed, it is one of the nation's premier drinking water systems, serving approximately 2.4 million people.

I didn’t know any of this until my recent vacation visit to this grand water retention project located in the northwest corner of Yosemite National Park. A couple of other things I didn’t know: the rising waters behind the dam displaced as many as 8 Indian tribes, who either moved to other land “reserved” for them or, as one would expect, to higher ground. I also found out that Chuckchansi is the name of an actual Indian tribe, not a craps table mascot named “Chuck Chancey."

Note of American Indian Irony: While touring the Yosemite Museum, I came upon a Native American woman dressed in traditional post-occupational attire sitting at a display as a cultural interpreter. She was on the phone, and I overheard her ask about...making a reservation. 

If I wrote interpretive signs for the National Park Service.

My trip to Hetch Hetchy was made out of curiosity, and I admit I did learn a few things. Along with the preceding tourbook tidbits, there were several interpretive signs that celebrated the dam as an engineering marvel for its time, with one noting the efforts of the dam's visionary, Mr. Mike O’Shaughnessy, he himself a chief, albeit of the engineering variety. There was also one interpretive sign specific to the Indians, but I found that to be a weak effort to downplay their eviction. Sort of like, “…but we didn’t kick them all the way out.”

I had read quite a bit about how this valley would have rivaled Yosemite Valley, and indeed the literature, guides and whatnot all extolled the grandeur that was still above the waterline. Even the park ranger at the entry kiosk built up our arrival and our expectations. After a week of hiking around Yosemite proper, my wife and I were now excited to check out the “other” Yosemite for comparison. They sold it pretty well, but I was not impressed. Hetch Hetchy turned out to be more of a location than a destination. Unless you're prepared to pack into the back country, there's not much "there" there. Only a five-mile hike on a trail set back from a body of water you can't swim in or boat on. Or throw rocks into. Or camp next to. Because it's special water. It's water for a city that's surrounded on three sides by...water.

I love the outdoors, but I'm not a tree hugger or a card-carrying member of a radical environmental group. San Francisco isn't the first city to reach out with a pipeline to sustain their existence, so I won't criticize them for tapping into a natural resource for their own benefit. What happened 70, 80 years ago is what it is. Siding with the argument that the dam should be torn down to allow the land to reclaim itself is moot. I won't be able to enjoy the new landscape in my lifetime, nor will my children. But I can enjoy other places, like Yosemite. And San Francisco. I'll have a different feeling when being served water in that city, though. I'll have a sense of the water's history. A sense of what one culture lost for another culture's gain. I've been to the dam, to the reservoir...I've stood in the famous alpine meadows of the Sierra high country and watched the Tuolomne River begin its meandering trek to the faucets of the City by the Bay.

I have gained a new appreciation for the water, for I have been to its source.

“The most important factor in water quality is

its source.” – S.F. Public Utilities Commission

King of His Castle

A fat guy is suing White Castle because his fat gut can’t fit between the table and the seat.

I’m sorry. That was rather insensitive of me.

A man has filed a lawsuit against White Castle because he feels a restaurant in the chain has violated his rights under the American’s with Disabilities Act by not providing adequate seating to compensate for his size disability. The man says that while not humongous, he’s a big guy and should be afforded the same rights as pregnant women and the handicapped.
 

The man claims he cannot comfortably sit in the fast food chain’s booths. A photo of him shows his wedged gut being creased by the edge of the table. I’d post the whole photo, but I don’t have the space. You’ll just have to use your imagination, or look through the window of nearly any fast food restaurant between the hours of “Open” and “Closed.” It’s a sad photo really. He looks trapped, kind of like when you see a picture of an animal in one of those metal leg traps and think the only route to freedom is for the poor thing to chew its leg off, except in this case dude just needs to stop chewing and he’ll probably slide right out in a day or so.

When I first read this story and saw the photo I thought, “That poor man and his needless suffering.” For those of you who know me well, you know that there are several words omitted from that thought, done so from my abhorrence at the open use of profanity (those of you who know me really well, stop laughing). The story of this man's terrible situation, in fact, bothered me so deeply I began to cry screamed "Opportunity to comment!" so loudly it almost made my eardrums bleed.

First of all, a person’s refusal to say, “No thank you, I’ll have a salad instead,” is not a disability. It’s a fucking choice. I know, I know…there are people out there to whom food is an addiction, who suffer food-related psychological problems, etc., et al, ad nauseum. But the plaintiff isn’t claiming he’s addicted to the food, nor is he claiming the food caused him a serious health condition. He’s claiming he can’t fit comfortably in the seat to engage in an activity that increases the likelihood he’ll never be able to fit comfortably in the seat.

You know what it’s called

when a table edge hits

your gut? It’s called

“enough.”

Second – and we’re talking about a fat person, so you know there are going to be seconds – how can a man compare the size of his girthy, flabby, fleshy gut to the stomach of a pregnant woman? Okay, other than they’re both eating for two? I mean, for crying out loud, his situation is not the same as that of a woman carrying additional pounds for months that eventually have to be pushed out… Look, it’s not the same.

The man defends his rights and his size, saying he fits comfortably in other places, like on airplanes. Yeah, he’s comfortable. What about the rest of us? Should we have to sit next to an overly large person and worry if we're going to be able to get to the emergency exit, or that we'll have to punch their stuck ass through the door like a honey-fat Winnie the Pooh? At what point does his comfort violate my rights to my comfort? What if moving the table makes it uncomfortable for me to eat? Do I get to sue White Castle, too?

The man said the whole experience of not being able to go to one of his favorite places has left him feeling like an outcast. He claims he’s tried to work with the restaurant to resolve the seating enlargement issue, but after two and a half years the only thing that seems to have been expanded is his belt. Apparently the responses from White Castle, which included coupons for free burgers, have left him humiliated, so much so that he had to send his wife out with the coupons to get the free burgers (because that's not humiliating). And adding insult to injury, the cheese was extra!

I'm all for accommodations being made for people with legitimate disabilities and that’s what the A.D.A. was supposed to be for. It wasn’t intended to be a vehicle to give a naturally short person height by getting a court order to lower shelves in stores. Or to pay for a woman's breast implants because she thinks it'll make it easier for her to get a job at Hooters (although...). The A.D.A. certainly wasn't intended to make the world bigger so a "big guy" can appear like he fits in it. That's what fun house mirrors in carnivals are for.

It's unfortunate this kind of shameful, litigious crap is allowed to infect our legal system - in this case, weigh it down. A person shouldn't - I say a person shouldn't because apparently a person can, therefore I can't say a person can't - be able to file a lawsuit alleging discrimination that piggybacks standards applicable to, say, a handicapped person if a handicapped person isn't being discriminated against. In other words, if the restaurant complies with A.D.A. requirements for handicap accessibility, then the only beef here is what's between the buns.

I suppose there's no chance someone with some sensibility will step in and explain that there are alternatives to his problem - like, say, eating in moderation. But if he feels compelled to exercise his rights, fine. Let him. By the look of him it's probably the only exercise this guy will have seen in years.

Words, Part 2: Slave of Fashion

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TV or not TV

The latest round of reality TV shows are coming, and I have to say I'm getting a little bit excit-zzzzzzzzzzzz.

I recall one of my first exposures to these reality and competition shows was Survivor, the series that dropped contestants from all walks of life onto a "deserted" island and made them face survival challenges and outsmart the others for a million bucks. My problem with a show like this is after the first one, all the rest seem scripted. Everyone knows what's going to happen, and the show's real competition becomes which participant can ham it up best for the camera and be the biggest back-stabbing asshole to the other contestants. I also didn't like that the location was somewhere supposedly exotic, some jungle island where most of us would love to spend a week "stranded" on the beach. Unrealistic. I'd rather see them survive a month after getting dropped into a New York public housing project or East St. Louis.

We also have the cooking competitions, with a chef host who is a four-star prima donna prick playing drill sergeant to a bunch of wannabes trying to rid the "sous" from their chef title. If anyone ever talked shit to me in my kitchen about my cooking they'd better a) make sure I'm not holding a knife that can slip out of my hand then b) wonder if what they're eating won't kill them.

Speaking of food shows, we also get treated to guys like Andrew Zimmern, a man who has no problem putting into his mouth dishes made from pieces of anything previously capable of having a pulse, like bull's rectum and testicle soup. It's an actual Filipino cuisine. It's called "Soup #5" on their menus. Anyone want to take a guess why?

And let's not forget our celebrities and kids of celebrities and housewives and x-tuplets and treasure hunters and ghost hunters and people who whisper to animals and...Jesus, when does it end? Will it ever end? Are our lives so shitty that we need to obsess over other peoples' shitty lives, that we find it a feel-good story when the world of someone who had money or privilege or fame falls apart in front of us in HD? I'm starting to wonder if there even exists an acceptable boundary for these shows. I mean, how far can we go? Would someone driving a short-bus full of Alzheimer patients across town so we can camera-track their exploits as they try to find their way home be indignant enough to cross the line?

This topic screwed itself into my head when I learned that the action at the DMV was being developed into a reality series. You read correctly. We will soon be exposed to the - note the quotation marks - "fun and fast paced" world of driving tests, registrations, and standing in line. Who would have thought one could make a television series showing personal meltdowns in a government-run agency that doesn't involve a semi-automatic weapon being discharged? Well, Ashton Kutcher, for one. He's the show's co-producer, and I find his participation particularly fitting as his career stands out for me just like a trip to the DMV: it's something that gets my attention every four years or so and leaves no memorable impact on my life other than the loss of time I can't get back.

In “So You Think You Can Ad Dance,”

contestants square off to find out who

can corner the market on marketing

the corner.

I say if Ashton can do it, so can I. That's why I'm developing my own list of potential reality and competition shows. Here are a few with their programming teasers:

So You Think You Can Ad Dance - Our van of judges is on the road looking for contestants to battle each other down on the corner dance floor to see who's got the meanest feet on the street. Think you can make the cut? Then grab your dancing shoes and your sign, hop the curb, pop in your ear buds and bust out your best moves.

Nailed It! - Each episode opens with a pickup driving to a home improvement store parking lot to find contestants. First five in the back of the truck get to hammer it out against each other to complete various home improvement projects. Contestants will draw a "sealed bid" from the Handyman's Toolbox. With a $200 budget and using similarly equipped tool belts, they have 45 minutes to complete their projects. It's gut wrenching competition ending with a grueling single-round elimination playoff  to see who "nailed it" to win the ultimate grand prize: a temporary U.S. work visa.

Soapbox Derby: The 2012 Presidential Race - Notes for this reality program were unavailable at post time as none of the contestants involved could agree on how best to promote the series, let alone the country. 

Keep the Change - Panhandling as a game show/sport? Why not? Each episode is set in a new city with new challenges for our four contestants. In our competition, it's not all about showing them the money. Players are evaluated by a panel of professional panhandlers and can score bonus cash for technique, attire and signage. From intersection to on-ramp to storefront, the battle's on to see who can cash in on the art of breaking middle-class guilt.

Are You Smarter Than A Redneck? - Based on the concept that brought you Jeff Foxworthy's 5th Grade challenge. It's a battle between some of the sharpest professorial minds in the country against show host and Tifton, Georgia, native Jimmie-Paul Stansby. Do you know your true southern history? Your NASCAR trivia? Do you know what a "munt" is? (Hint: there are 12 of them). Then you just might be smarter than a redneck. Anyone who can beat Jimmie-Paul at his own game wins a $1,000 Bass Pro Shops shopping spree and 20% off the manager's dinner special for two at participating Chick'n Biscuits locations.

So check your local listings...then go read a book.

Eat Your Damn Oatmeal!

This little nugget came about because of my daughter. In fact, it came about twice because of her. The first time because of her craving for Quaker's Cinnamon & Spice instant oatmeal, and the second because she reminded me of it when I told her stores were now selling it.

They say you can’t put a price on a

child’s happiness. Sorry, sweetie,

“they” aren’t your parents.

Back in November of 2010, my daughter was away at college. Being the conscientious parent that I am, I wanted to make sure she had necessities such as food. She said she wanted instant Cinnamon & Spice oatmeal, but she couldn't find any. So, dad's on the job.

I looked everywhere, but I couldn't find any. It wasn't for sale in the grocery stores. It wasn't for sale on Quaker Oats' website. I checked all over the Internet and found nothing. Well, almost nothing. I did find it for sale on Amazon...in the U.K. and for $42. This seemed ridiculous to me, so I emailed the consumer relations link on Quaker's website and asked the following question:

Why isn't Cinnamon and Spice instant oatmeal available for retail sale in the U.S.? Other than its inclusion in the variety packs, it seems like it's only available as a single flavor overseas.
EMAIL*MESSAGE*END

And several days later, I received this response:

From: ConsumerRelations@cr.quakeroats.com <ConsumerRelations@cr.quakeroats.com>
Subject: RE: Quaker Instant Oatmeal with Cinnamon & Spice , REF.# 027345449A
To: c*******@*****.com
Date: Monday, November 8, 2010, 10:15 AM

Chris:

Thanks for contacting us about Quaker Cinnamon & Spice instant oatmeal. We're sorry you're having difficulty locating this at the stores in your area. However, I'm pleased to tell you that this has not been discontinued, and we're still making full boxes of this flavor of instant oatmeal.

Since ordering online is an option for you, and our Quaker Oats online Store doesn't carry this oatmeal, I did a search to help you out. I'm pleased to tell you that right at this time, Amazon.com has this oatmeal in stock and can ship it to your home. I invite you to visit their store at the following link for more information:

http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=cinnamon+%26+spice+oatmeal (*blogger's note: This link is no longer valid for the $42 product, but they still have one listed for $39)

With regards to the stores in your area, I don't have a list of stores that carry this oatmeal, and this is why. Individual stores don't order products directly from us but rather through their distributors. The final decision about which products to stock at an individual store is up to the store manager, provided they are able to obtain it from their supplier.

So, if you want to purchase a product that is not available in your grocery store, ask the store manager to check with their supplier as they may be able to order this flavor for you. If this is any help when you talk to the store managers, here is the UPC code for this oatmeal: 30000-01350.

In addition, a variety of our products are also available in Wal*Mart, Target, and K Mart; as well as the club stores like Sam's, BJ's, or Costco.

All of that said, Chris, we have some new Quaker Instant Oatmeal products on the shelves, and I've mailed you a $2.00 off coupon so you can give them a try. Your coupon should arrive in about a week; enjoy!

Jeff
Quaker Consumer Relations
A Division of PepsiCo
Ref# 027345449A

Here's what I know from my limited experience working in retail: If a product is available and it will sell - and this cereal will sell - a supplier will have the retailer stock the product because it's money in the supplier's pocket. If it's not available, it's because the manufacturer (Quaker Oats) isn't distributing the product to the suppliers. It's called withholding supply to increase the demand. That's one of the reasons we pay high prices for things like gas.

Had Jeff read the two sentences I wrote he would have understood that I knew the folks at Quaker were still making the product and I knew where it was available. In roughly six paragraphs, he did a marketing two-step around my question and simply regurgitated what I wrote. I wasn't pleased with the response I received from Jeff. I felt like he blew me off. I felt like he was responding because he was obligated to, as if whatever answer he sent to me would suffice and that I'd be happily distracted from his shitty response with a $2 coupon. I felt like writing him back. So about an hour later, I did.

From: Chris ****** <c*******@*****.com>
Subject: RE: Quaker Instant Oatmeal with Cinnamon & Spice , REF.# 027345449A
To: ConsumerRelations@cr.quakeroats.com
Date: Monday, November 8, 2010, 11:25 AM

Jeff,

Thank you for your response to my question. Believe me, I did my research and my inquiry was based not on the fact I can't find your product in my area, I can't find an American product IN MY OWN COUNTRY. I am familiar with the Amazon availability as I checked there before contacting Quaker.

I know Quaker is still producing the Cinnamon & Spice flavor because, as I said in my inquiry, it's available in the variety packs. If it was available in the U.S. I'm sure you would have told me I can find it in Indiana. However, my research tells me Quaker doesn't distribute the cereal as an individual flavor in the U.S. I'm sure Quaker knows this, and me being a person who appreciates honesty I would not have been hurt had you just said, "Sorry, Chris, unfortunately the flavor is not available as an individual item. Because Quaker values its customers and understands we can't meet all of their personal preferences, we would like to offer a coupon for..."

I understand your position is to put a positive spin on what the consumer sees as a company's oversight or failure or whatever you want to call it. However, I find the option of paying $42 for a 10-pack of $6 cereal as offensive as you being pleased to tell me about it. Here's a suggestion for your consumer relations career: If YOU wouldn't pay an exorbitant price for one of your own products, don't offer that as an option to a customer. Suggest that it "may be available on an on-line site, such as Amazon," apologize, send me a damn coupon, and wish me luck. Just be honest, Jeff.

Chris ******

I never heard back from Jeff, not that I expected to. Maybe Jeff responded to my initial query the way he was taught and could care less about being a douche. Or maybe he realized from my response to his response that any further attempt to correspond would only result in me making him seem like a bigger douche. OR, maybe my response never reached Jeff because it went into a consumer relations email pool from where it got the attention of Jeff's boss, who shit on him for being a douche and reassigned him to other marketing functions, like dressing up in the spoon costume and dancing with the guy in the bowl-of-oatmeal costume at elementary school nutritional education events.

I'm not a credit seeking whore, but I'd like to think that my efforts affected change here. I'd like to think a big corporation bowed to the pressure of the little guy. I'd like to think that today, on our local store's shelves between the boxes of Maple & Brown Sugar and boxes of Raisins & Spice, one can find boxes and boxes of Cinnamon & Spice instant oatmeal. All made possible because of a simple letter inspired by a father's love for his child. Sigh.

Yeah, I'd like to think those things are true, but I have to believe it was a coincidence. I have to believe in coincidence because, much like me being charming and good looking, a coincidence is the only rational explanation for why this occurred.

In any case, my little girl is getting her oatmeal, albeit a year late, and I...well, I got to do what's becoming a favorite pastime of mine - poking holes in the inflated egos corporations and marketers with word pins.