Presidents (or President’s or Presidents’) Day approacheth

[Editor’s note. The opinions expressed in the following blogpost are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of this radio station. --RWP]

If I were a radio station my call letters would be WBR.

Welcome Back, Readers.

The first radio station in Atlanta, WSB, was founded in 1922. Its call letters have always stood for “Welcome South, Brother” just as the call letters of radio station WBAP in Fort Worth, Texas (one of the very few radio stations west of the Mississippi River to begin with W instead of K -- don’t ask why, just go with the flow) , stand for “We Bring A Program”... but I digress. This post is not about radio stations.

It is about Presidents (or President’s or Presidents’) Day in the United States, not to be confused with Presidents’ Day in Botswana (yes, Virginia, there is a Presidents’ Day in Botswana) .

Smack dab in the middle of February (or it would be the middle of February if February had 30 or 31 days like every other decent, self-respecting month, but noooooooo) sits a single holiday in the United States where there used to be two. When I was a lad I served a term as office boy in an attorney’s firm there were two holidays in February here (well, three, counting St. Valentine’s Day, but I don’t have time to get into that now) . They were George Washington’s Birthday on February 22nd and Abraham Lincoln’s birthday on February 12th. George Washington was our first president and served from 1789 to 1797. Abraham Lincoln was our sixteenth president and served from 1861 to 1865. We have had 44 presidents altogether, actually 43 presidents who have served 44 presidencies, Grover Cleveland’s two presidencies (1885-1889 and 1893-1897) having been separated by the presidency of one Benjamin Harrison (1893-1897) .

All of this adulation concentrated on two admittedly august persons changed when President Lyndon Johnson (1963-1968) signed into law the Uniform Monday Holiday Act of 1968 that Congress passed to give federal workers a gaggle/bevy/plethora (pick one) of three-day weekends during the year from that time forward henceforth forever, beginning in 1971.

So poor George and Abe personally got the heave-ho in favor of honoring not just them but others as well on the third Monday of February. Ever since, no one has been really sure which presidents the holiday honors. All of them? Some of them? It isn’t cast in concrete.

You won’t read this exact account anywhere else in cyberspace. This is my own rendering of the situation.

As to the placement (or not) of an apostrophe, you won’t find a consensus on that issue either, but I’m sure our arrogant, narcissistic, megalomaniacal (I do not say Kenyan or Muslim) current occupant of the office, Barack Hussein Obama (2008- ) , thinks of it as President’s (singular) Day, his very own, because everything is always about him, him, him. This in spite of the fact that his place in history continues to plummet among the more conservative portion of the populace. Senator Marco Rubio of Florida said a couple of months ago that President Obama is the worst president since Jimmy Carter (1977-1981) and perhaps in his lifetime. Senator Rubio is only 43 years old, so his shortsightedness can be forgiven. It has also been heard in public from certain quarters that President Obama is the worst president since Warren G. Harding (1921-1923) . The current winner in the How Bad Is He? contest is radio-talk-show host Sean Hannity, who said this week that President Obama is the worst president since James Buchanan (1857-1861) . That’s bad. That’s low. That’s even lower than Millard Fillmore (1850-1853) and William Henry Harrison (1841-1841) , the latter of whom happens to have been the grandson of the Benjamin Harrison mentioned above.

I really must try to stop using so many parentheses.

If only we were a monarchy, everything would be peachy, I’m sure. Some think we are fast becoming one.

This is radio station WARR (Well, Au Revoir, Readers) ending its broadcast day.

We interrupt this blog to bring you this important special announcement

They say confession is good for the soul.

I feel so much better now.

P.S. - It’s Groundhog Day. Punxsutawney Phil, the groundhog in Pennsylvania, saw his shadow, which means America will have six more weeks of winter. General Beauregard Lee, the groundhog in Atlanta, did not see his shadow, which means America will have an early spring. A third groundhog from New York, Staten Island Chuck, has entered the prognostication race of late, but I don’t care one way or the other whether he saw his shadow. What I am is confused. As world-famous and highly articulate baseball player Yogi Berra, another New Yorker, once said, it’s déjà vu all over again.

We now return you to today’s blog, already in progress.

If you must be an aspersion-caster, be an equal opportunity aspersion-caster

I ran across some fascinating information this week. I have no idea whether any of it is true.

A woman named Kate Peregrina has written articles for a website called Thrillist that purport to identify the things various European countries are best at and the things various European countries are worst at. The context is not within the whole world, but within the European Union. I am including the links in my post today so that you can look, read, and learn. Afterward, as Linda Richman (hostess of the Coffee Talk skits on Saturday Night Live) used to say, you can use the comments section of this post to talk amongst yourselves.

Here are some of the “best” categories:

Lowest unemployment
Most recycling
Cheapest electricity
Best at drinking beer
Most dancing and singing
Lowest obesity rate
Fewest divorces
Most people who have quit smoking
Biggest producer of apples
Lowest cocaine use
Fewest teen moms
Lowest homicide rate

...and here are some of the “worst” categories:

Worst traffic congestion
Least freedom of the press
Fewest 18-year-olds in school
Most tax evasion
Highest percentage of prisoners
Highest suicide rate
Fewest cinemas per capita
Lowest voter turnout
Highest cocaine usage

As I said, fascinating.

Here are the links:

1. What Every Country In The European Union Does Best

2. What Every European Union Country Is The Worst At

Finally, just so you know that I am an equal-opportunity aspersion caster, I am including a third link that will clue you in on what Ms. Peregrina says every U.S. state is the worst at. The categories include most tornadoes, fewest inland waterways, worst at incarcerating the elderly, fewest heliports....

3. What Every U.S. State Is The Worst At

You make me feel so young

This blogpost of mine is number 1400, or as we say in hexadecimal, 578.

I love hexadecimal.

Hexadecimal is just like decimal except it has six more digits. There are sixteen digits in all in hexadecimal: 0, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, A, B, C, D, E, and F. Only then do you reach 10 in hexadecimal, which equals 16 in decimal.

It can be a little perplexing at first, but the underlying principle is just like the decimal system that you’re used to, except that hexadecimal is based on powers of 16 instead of powers of 10. That is, 100 in decimal is 10 squared, 1000 is 10 cubed, and so forth. In hexadecimal, however, 100 is 16 squared (256 decimal) and 1000 is 16 cubed (4096 decimal).

Who would ever want to count like that?

I’m glad you asked. Computer people, that’s who. Don’t ask why; just take my word for it.

Hexadecimal has its advantages. For instance, in hexadecimal, I am currently 49, not 73. And when my birthday rolls around in March, I will be able to say I am “49 and counting” for the next six years because in hexadecimal I won't turn 50 until I am 80 in decimal. In those intervening years I will actually be 4A, 4B, 4C, 4D, 4E, and 4F, but it is easier to just say “49 and counting” than to try to explain it to you decimal system people.

When I turned 50, I told all my colleagues that I was only 32 in hexadecimal, so they presented me with a cake with X‘32’ written in the frosting on top. The fact that it was part of an epitaph on a tombstone, indicating that I might be over the hill, is beside the point.

Here is an equivalence chart so that you may henceforth identify your age in hexadecimal:

If you are 16 years old, you are only 10 in hexadecimal.
If you are 17 through 25, you are 11 through 19 in hexadecimal.
If you are 26 through 31, you are “19 and counting” in hexadecimal.
If you are 32 through 41, you are 20 through 29 in hexadecimal.
If you are 42 through 47, you are “29 and counting” in hexadecimal.
If you are 48 through 57, you are 30 through 39 in hexadecimal.
If you are 58 through 63, you are “39 and counting” in hexadecimal.
If you are 64 through 73, you are 40 through 49 in hexadecimal.
If you are 74 through 79, you are “49 and counting” in hexadecimal.
If you are 80 through 89, you are 50 through 59 in hexadecimal.
If you are 90 through 95, you are “59 and counting” in hexadecimal.
And only when you are 96 will you finally be 60 in hexadecimal.

I repeat, I love hexadecimal.

Today’s bit of trivia: In the movie Avatar, the Na'vis on Pandora used the octal system (base 8) because they had only four fingers on each hand.

-----------------------------

Update, January 24th: Everyone who is bewildered by hexadecimal can just watch Michael Bublé singing "You Make Me Feel So Young" (3:06) instead. Then, at least, you will know how hexadecimal makes me feel. You should ignore the ironic fact that Michael Bublé is young and therefore singing this particular song at this particular time in his life is downright silly.

It is important to spell correctly because...

...otherwise the message you send might not be the message you intended.

What they don't tell you in the commercials, or Ya Gotta Read The Fine Print

It has been a little over a week -- eight days, to be exact -- since I announced my intention to take a break of indeterminate length from blogging, yet here I am, back already. Well, for today at least. Perhaps I will be posting weekly henceforth, making a yearly total of 52 posts seem not only achievable but also absolutely on-target. Please note that I did not say “I will be posting weekly henceforth,” I said “Perhaps I will be posting weekly henceforth.” There’s a difference.

Be that as it may, the reason I took pen in hand put fingers to the keyboard once again is to bring to your attention, if you haven’t already noticed, the devious ways in which advertisers in television commercials draw you in. While what they tell you may be true, they don’t necessarily tell you the whole truth. Ya gotta read the fine print.

For example, I heard a woman in a commercial this week say that she has received $900 (UK, £594) in rebates by making her purchases on a certain website. My first reaction was "Wow! Maybe that’s where I should be buying things too!" (which is, I’m sure, exactly what the advertiser intended) . My second reaction, however, was to wonder how much I would have to spend to get that kind of rebate. The commercial very conveniently did not mention what percentage of one’s purchases are refunded, but I very quickly calculated that if it were, say, a very generous 5% (which no one would ever do) , I would have to have plunked down $18,000 (UK, £11,883) to receive that particular rebate. Not very likely, at least in this household.

Caveat emptor. That’s all I’m saying.

Here’s another example: A commercial for Premier Walk-in Bath (something an old person like moi might covet) stated it could be obtained for $150 per month. Period. Didn't mention either the purchase price or for how many months, so being ever-vigilant I checked their website. Turns out that the fine print still doesn’t mention the purchase price but does say that a down payment of 1/3 of the price, whatever it is, is required, and that at an example interest rate of 9.9% the cost would be only $150 a month for (take a deep breath) 120 MONTHS [emphasis mine] . Another quick calculation on my part determined that not including the 1/3 down payment the monthly payments come to $18,000 (UK, £11,883) FOR A BATHTUB.

The nice part, of course, is that if I buy it through that other website I will receive a $900 (UK, £594) rebate.

I may be stupid, but I am not crazy.

The sound of one hand clapping

Having suddenly realized (British: realised) that not only am I becoming increasingly irrelevant in today’s world but also that we are now more than three months into what should have been my blog’s sabbatical year*, I have decided to take a break from blogging.

I probably will be back, but who knows?

Also, being of the mercurial sort (look it up) , the break may last three days or three months or three years. Again, who knows?

Certainly not I.

Until then, whenever “then” turns out to be, toodles. It’s been real**.

One thing I do know for sure. I will miss you more than you will miss me.

Yr frnd,
Rhymes


--------------------------
* Wait, is a sabbatical year the seventh one, or the one after the seventh one? If the correct answer is the former, then I am already a year late.
**Actually, it’s only been virtual, but it often seemed real.