Fun Things You Can Do with a Cup O' Coins

Good day to you, my fine friends, and thank you once again for passing by your humble bard's street corner. With the holidays of late, I took the opportunity to indulge the needs of family and fatherhood, but here I stand once again bound and determined to entertain. Pause a few moments, and let me relate to you a tale:

When I am not treading the corner here, or donning the guise of father and husband, I often wear the beer-spattered black tux shirt that the barkeeps in my place of employ are wont to have hanging on their person. While I'm sure it goes without need to comment, the hourly wages are in today's times a pittance, but necessary. The real meat of it, however, comes from those things called tips, such as might be deposited into the tin can there on my corner, just to the right, you see. These tips come most often in the form of quarters and dollar bills, and occasionally in larger and more friendly denominations. Regardless - at the end of an evening, one progresses back towards home with a large styrofoam cup bearing a load of coin at the bottom, with paper bills atop. These one either spends as they are, or converts into more a more convenient form to haul about town, and are dispersed therefore into the local economy to purchase foodstuffs, drink, entertainment, and so on. Occasionally one even is required to pay 'bills' with them. Here is the meat of the tale, my friends.

On this particular occasion, I had a bill to pay. An important one, at that. Having hoarded my coins for a couple of weeks, I needed to see to their conversion into something that would be happily deposited into an ATM machine because while I'm sure I could spend some hours tossing 5-10 quarters at a time into a deposit envelope and feeding it into the machine before repeating the process, I possess the distinct suspicion that those in the financial services industry would be somewhat less than amused at both my activity and the wagering I might be quietly making to see how long I could do it before causing the machine to have apoplexy. This, coupled with a resultant phone call from a gentleman in a black suit with low patience appended, made the option singularly less entertaining.  Thus, I need bills. Not the ones I'm paying of course, I already have those. No, the bills with which to pay the bills. The green ones as opposed to the paper ones. Unless those are green as well, and ... well they're also on paper aren't they.

In any event - I needed to melt my coin down into proper paper currency.

Now, normally I would simply take these to the cage window at my local casino (seeing as I work in one) and have them do the deed for me. Neat and simple. However, I was also at the time in the market for a new local bank account as my previous one has simply proven to be unwieldy and not at all what I truly needed. So I thought to simply slay two fowl with one well-placed polished stone, as it were, and shop for financial services whilst attempting to convert my coinage into a more machine-acceptable format.

Now let me paint you a small picture here.  As I embark on my journey, I am armed of course with the normal accoutrements of the day, but also with a 10 oz styrofoam cup, brim-full of quarters.  That's all, ladies and gents. a 10 oz cup full. Not a massive pickle jar, not an old coffee can, not even a zip-sealed plastic baggie. A 10 oz styrofoam nonbiodegradeable cup.  I'm sure you can picture such a thing, yes? Yes.

I place this in my car and drive to the nearest bank in town and step inside. I walk with my cup o' coins (do not add water, hot or otherwise) to the counter and politely set it down in front of the teller. I politely request the conversion of my cup o' coins into something more flat, and somewhat less heavy. She responds to me that she cannot indulge my kind request as such services are only permitted to members of the institution.

Now this struck me as somewhat odd.  I had expected perhaps a small fee for the simple transaction. Business is business after all. I had not expected an outright refusal. My eyebrows, my friends, raised somewhat. Truly? Why ever could that be, I inquired?

The response? It was policy.  Ah, of course. While inane, I can at least understand that. Until she added that also, it was to prevent money laundering.

... I beg your pardon?

Freeze the tableau with me a moment friends. Let's review our image. Your humble bard stands in a financial services establishment, i.e. a bank.  He is dressed casually, but neatly, washed, clean, with only a few hours of growth on the facial hair front. On the whole, entirely presentable for most purposes outside of a black-tie dinner.  With me, again, a 10 oz styrofoam cup full of quarters. A cup which, I am now being told, is sending up a red flag for money laundering.

Now I have friends in the financial sector, dear readers.  Well, all right, I have a friend in the financial sector. He is acquainted well with the assorted rules and regulations and federal whatnots that dictate the deeds of the banking world and what constitutes danger of money laundering and so on. He cannot tell me the specifics, for simply detailing such things to me, a mere bartender and spinner of words, would apparently endanger the safety of the free world and cause him to be in violation of assorted federal laws. However, he did say that what tale I was told was ludicrous.

It's always nice to have endorsement for one's feelings, is it not?

For truly - it is, even before you get into legalities. Just pass this through a logic filter, my friends. Were I an underhanded individual, seeking to not only gain many ill-gotten gains, but then funnel said ill-gotten gains through legitimate business so that they might then look less ill-gotten and more well-gotten, I would think that operating in quantity would be important from a profit/loss perspective, yes? If there are any criminal elements reading, you're welcome to indicate if I'm off-base with this thought of course. Certainly at least, one would wish to gain the gains in some bulk, to minimize the ill-gotten time required and minimize personal risk. Then one wishes to launder those ill-gotten gains. Now I can see diversification in this respect to be useful certainly as to avoid sending up red flags. Filtering several thousand through one point might cause an eyebrow to lift curiously. Sending a few hundred here or there would cause less wonderment.

Refer again now to our frozen image. I am not wielding hundreds or thousands of dollars. I have in my posession quarters. 1 10oz styrofoam cup full. Perhaps $75-$80 if I've packed well and am truly fortunate. What did I do, knock over an Coca-Cola vending machine that doesn't accept one-dollar bills? Ransack the local Lion's Club quarter gumball machine? Nefariously lop the head off of a parking meter? Perhaps I sat in a darkened corner of the local laundromat and pretended to be a soap dispenser. Yes indeed - I have certainly obtained thousands of dollars from such ill-informed pursuits and am now carefully laundering my coins, one cup at a time, to paraphrase Mr. Johnny Cash. My soap-dispenser costume is in the back of my car. Go look if you like and have a problem detecting the presence of minute traces of raw elemental sarcasm.

My friends, I laughed.  I almost evolved into tearful laughter.

So the image progresses forward again. I laughed. I did not get angry, I simply laughed. No - this was certainly not the financial institute I wished to patronize. The teller, looking affronted at my understanding of basic principles of logic, noted that I could speak to the bank Vice President if I so desired. I laughed again, and lifting my precious Cup O' Coins in hand, turned and walked away without a backwards glance, only commenting 'No, that's quite all right.'  And so I went.

The rest of the journey passed without overmuch hassle. My second bank featured amenities such as young and nubile tellers, and a widescreen television upon one wall which was broadcasting an UFC or WEC fight, certainly well holding the attention of said nubile tellers. While progressive in their staffing and customer entertainment certainly, they desired not a flat fee for the changing of my coins, but a percentage that was entirely too steep for the task. So away I (regretfully) went. Whether or not you view it as sexist is your take, but I am male, and will always enjoy the sight of young and nubile. I make no apology for that. I like what I like. I also like older and experienced too. It doesn't mean I find them in any capacity diminished or less worthy of anything. I simply like women, and I enjoy looking at them.

Finally, I did find a bank that both changed my coins for a mere percentage that capped at $5, much more agreeable. Also their policies were close enough to my shopping needs that I opted to give them a try. And thus my tale ended altogether happily, with no further implication that my cup of coins was even marginally criminal.

All's well that ends well, as it is said.

Well, my friends, I believe it is time I ceased pulling on your ear for now. Do have yourselves a fine day as you go on about your way, and please - do remember that the tin can always appreciates the company of coinage. Should my ramblings amuse? Do consider tossing a coin in the bucket. Your humble bard always appreciates it.

And in any case - I look forward to your next visit, regardless. Take care, my friends.

News from the Akademi : Drive-Thru Edition v1.0

A friendly greeting and welcome to all of my fine friends on this winter's day. I do thank you most kindly for braving the electronic elements to swing past my corner this morning on your way to your day's duties.

I have today for you, a brief tale to relate. In the course of your minstrel's wanderings, I often look at the signs and postings scattered about through our world for not only are they informative, they are also invariably entertaining.  Case in point for you : a small hand-written sign I encountered while going through a drive-through a few days back.  Pardon me.   "Drive-Thru".

...

Yes, yes. I'm going to just let that one go. No, the sign in question was placed over the menu, and stated that one of the items upon was unavailable at the present time, and cited a reason for that. I regret, my friends, that I did not think to snap a photograph of the sign in question and shall certainly do so in future. Further, let me state that it was very nice of this establishment to not only state a thing was not to be had, but also a measure of why. I'm a student of the 'Why'. I like 'Whys'. Why is important, if you ask me.

But I digress. The reason stated for the lack of the cited food item was, and I quote, "macanical difficulties". I sighed at the sight. I shook my head a bit. I certainly will not say that I am the world's most proficient speller or student of grammar, but such sights do make me lose a little faith in the educational system. Or perhaps not so much lose faith, but underscore the need to improve it. In any event. I let it go, and resumed 'driving-thru' as it were, to tender payment for my meal and to receive same. As I pulled up to the window I saw a second sign, and this time my friends, a laugh was impossible to suppress. It was advertising a scholarship program. This one in fact.

I'll give you a moment to parse, my friends.

Is such a thing laudable? Of course it is. I just couldn't help but wonder at the timing. In the back of my mind, I dearly hope for the sake of my own amusement, that the scholarship sticker was applied to the "drive-thru" window only minutes after the 'macanical difficulties' sign was penned. Perhaps it's a not-so-subtle message to an employee? One can only hope and wonder, my friends.

And laugh.  I think laughter is entirely called for here.  I know I certainly indulged.

Ah well. I think that's that for the time being. Once again - Thank you most kindly for casting your gaze over this corner of the world once more, and I look for forward to your return. May the approaching holidays be happy ones, ladies and gents.

Run Silent, Run Beep

A fine day to you, my friends, and welcome back to my corner of the world. Your visits are always appreciated, regardless of your reason for passing on your way past my particular roost.

I have, and this may pose no shock to you, an unapologetic affection for technology. I rarely have time for much of it, but it absolutely fascinates me. Take for example something that a large many of us take absolutely for granted in these modern times, our car key fob gadget. You know the ones, yes? Small, fits in the palm of your hand, and can unlock and lock the doors on your vehicle in an instant, or turn off its alarms. Even features such as starting the engine remotely can be found if the model is advanced enough, and while I find that particular feature does inspire a little nervousness, I can't dispute its utility. Simply the fact that it exists and can -do- that makes me smile a bit.

These handy little gadgets also have had an interesting, and I believe unintentional, side-effect.

Now recall if you will the days before these existed. Journeying to your local mega store, meant that upon disembarking the vehicle, the phrase "OK, everybody remember where we parked." was common coin, even if unspoken. Landmarks were crucial. Knowing that you were by the third light post in section G, but the one -behind- the cart corral and not directly in front of it, next to that oil leak spot with the empty eggnog carton lying in it that's become home to a band of passing gypsy cockroaches with bandanas and silenced automatic weapons, was absolutely essential if you were going to try to avoid a 20 minute hunt through a sea of vehicles that looked almost like your own. Gods help you if a similar make/model and color parked near you. How many times did you reach out to unlock a door and find yourself not only perplexed but utterly infuriated by the "key-of-course-now-it's-not-working-when-I-really-need-it.. oh.. wrong car" moment. More than once I'd wager, my friends, if you're anything similar to me.

With the keyfob? These days have largely passed. Sure, you can encounter the old reaction if you go about it in the same way. However - what I've seen evolve now, and what I myself participate in, is more akin to a parking-lot bound game of Seawolf. The only memory truly needed is a general broad area in which you parked. Once armed with this knowledge, and key fob discreetly tucked into one palm, you merely stride into the parking lot at a casual pace looking as confident as you please. Unseen, your thumb depresses the 'lock' or 'unlock' button on the key fob every couple of seconds. You walk, listening for the tell-tale beep of the car chirping at you, an automotive ASDIC ping. If you hear silence, you continue casually striding along with your cart full of purchased eggs, milk, clothing, high-definition televisions, and missile defense systems, and continue depressing the button. With any fortune, a faint response might be heard. You repeat the button press and home in on the sound until finally, like some sort of hi-tech vampire bat highly exceeding its safe load capacity rating, your technological echolocation bears fruit by leading you to your vehicle, where you may then successfully place your goods inside, confident in the knowledge that you looked like a competent human being who remembered where his car was parked. The world around you has no need to know at all that you were striding along praying that you'd hear the car chirp at you before you arrived at the far end of the aisle looking like a particularly ambitious hobo bound for the highway with his conveyance of choice. Ah, technology.

It strikes me there's some sort of Olympic sport hiding in here, waiting to be found. Some way to make the game all the more interesting.  I'll be happy to take suggestions, my friends. Meanwhile, I think I have likely distracted you from your daily journey for long enough.  Do take care as you wander through your day. I thank you kindly for your visit, and hope you'll return again soon.

Carbon/Copy

"Philistines.  I mean how can you re-make Casablanca?  The one starring Myra Dinglebat and Peter Beardsley was definitive." - Red Dwarf

===

A fine and good morning to you, my friends. Thank you kindly once more for passing by the corner here to see what may be seen. I do hope the day finds you well. As for myself, it finds me in a somewhat reflective state. Plying my trade these days as a purveyor of alcoholic refreshment can be very enlightening, particularly as I enjoy watching those around me, a pursuit catered to handily by my position behind the bar top.

However, as often as I can make observation about those I'm serving, not serving, or already have been served, I find it amusing that I observe myself just as frequently. Take for example, music. When I was on the verge of seeing my first offspring enter the world I mused upon fatherhood and where it might take me in the future. We all do this I believe, yes? I'll treat my children this way, as opposed to my parents in this or that respect. I'll be a 'cool' parent, I'll be on top of things and in the know. I'll understand their slang before they even say it. I'll follow along with the popular music of the day. And so on.

Somewhere down the line, however, I stopped following the popular music of the day, by and large. Not because I particularly disliked it, really. It was more a matter of opportunity. I simply found myself listening to the radio proper less and less as time grew on, due to not being as much in the place where I would do that, namely the car. That, and the habit of radio stations at the time (and from what little I hear these days, my friends, this hasn't changed much) to overplay a certain set of songs that have been deemed to be popular. Now my dear and beloved wife can tell you that I can listen to a song over and over quite happily, so I'll simply ask you to let your imagination stray a bit in conjuring the quantity of playtime it would take to make me so sick of a tune that I'm actively attempting to avoid it. It could be argued that perhaps I was also rebelling in a way against a large entity telling me 'this is what is popular.' I can't state that would be altogether incorrect either, I suppose. Instead, I have more and more opted to acquire new music by artists I already appreciate, or look for altogether bleeding-edge new artists that have yet to come into the mainstream.

Either way you look at it, it strays a bit from the intended path, yes?

What brought this to my ears and mind recently was this: In our drinking establishment, we have live music every Friday and Saturday night. A local-ish band (usually) comes and plays a 4 hour set. About 5% is original music, and about 95% are covers. The style of music varies week to week, being a blend of country, rock, blues, and 80s-90s popular standards. Most of the time I find myself enjoying the background music as I work, a live radio as it were. Most of the time, it's comfortable music that I'm familiar with and even enjoy for the most part. (I pause here to make exception for the song 'Margaritaville', which I am beginning to dislike in the extreme due to the 'overplay' clause noted above. I do wonder occasionally if the playing of the song is a contractual obligation, or if they're simply trying to irritate the barkeeps by stimulating a flood of cheery frozen blended drinks.)

The point being, though - that I noticed my comfort. That musically, I was content at being unchallenged by new melodies or lyrics, or alternately that I was finding fewer melodies and/or lyrics to be new, but simply rehashed and repeated. (There is, by the by, a fascinating chapter in the book Tonguing the Zeitgeist by Mr. Lance Olsen that explores that very subject.) Laziness on the part of the artists, or have we simply run out of notes and combinations thereof? From the opposite stand, I've often found myself offended in the ears if a cover of a song is too far away from its origins as far as I discovered the song myself. Again - a direct point to my comfort zone, yes? The effects of aging, disliking change in general, or a sign that I should be a bit more open? Reinterpretation after all, -can- bring new ideas to light, and freshen the old.

I think however, the crux of it lies less with a lack of the new, but as all signs seem to point, more to the deterioration of a comfort zone. Rather than being particularly pleased when a band does an especially faithful rendition of a song, or a film faithfully re-imagines the original content frame for frame, I should I think attempt to be a bit more open to taking in the new work's individual qualities. New creations will always hold weight with me, but what I need to also acknowledge I think, is that covers, remakes, re-writes - are in their own way also new creations, and ought perhaps to be judged not only by the original context and intentions, but also against the goals they set for themselves, regardless to the amount of affection I may hold for the original work, artists, or filmmakers.

Something for me to ruminate upon. Perhaps food for thought for you as well, my readers.

In any case, I imagine I have taken enough of your passing time this fine morning.  I thank you once again for passing by, and look forward to your next visit.

Take it easy, folks.

Dollars and Sense

Good morn to you, my fine friends and passersby. I thank you kindly for once again stopping past my humble corner, and for granting indulgence as I work to scrape together a few posters to cover up the bricks, at least somewhat.

As I browsed the newsstands this morning, I was pointed to a news clipping that I found absolutely fascinating. Let me share it with you.... let's see now.. which pile did that get placed in... ah, here we go. Do take a moment to look. I won't wander away, you have my word, friends.

Now let me stress for the record, that I point this out to you not to impress upon you any personal politics. That's quite unrelated to my point today. No, what made your modern bard's eyebrows raise somewhat was the mathematics involved.

Look here at this portion, "Reports say Palin makes $200,000 a speech, which Macaluso says is 'around the ballpark.' " So we can call the figure reasonably accurate according to the arranger of the speaker in question. Now also this part here, "Organizers hope to sell 1,000 tickets at $200 a plate." Now then, gentle reader, as I am wont to say : Parse that. Take these base facts and let them coalesce.

Yes - yes indeed, I do believe I can see the light of it in your eyes. Well done.


To wit :
Speaking Fee : ~$200,000
Funds Raised : $200 x 1000 tickets = $200,000

Or putting that in a simple mathematical statement :

$200,000 = $200,000

This speaking event is ostensibly to raise funds. At current count, based simply upon the two facts above, the total projected funds raised after just the speaker's fee, would seem to be a grand total of $0.

Now, my friends - this simple minstrel is hardly an expert in the business of public appearances and/or the raising of funds, and I would never claim to be. Additionally, I would be remiss if I did not also point out that yes, the organizers of the event hope to also raise additional funds via photographic opportunities. All the same - I can't help but feel that there may be some shortsightedness here. Were I to undertake such a job, I'm reasonably certain that (especially given the current economic climate) keeping the cost reasonable relative to the financial gain would be a requisite of the task. Something on a 1:2 ratio would seem fair, yes? Reasonably project that you'll raise funds equivalent ,say, to the cost of the drawing attraction, plus another equivalent amount to go to the target of those funds. Seems reasonable enough.

I've no idea at all of the other expenses involved of course, but I'm certain there's venue rental, cost of food and preparation (it is a dinner event after all), security - etc. We've only -met- the speaker's fee by the plate cost to get in, if 1000 attend. The rest of those expenses are apparently being met by photography. Are we going to be vending $200 photographs perhaps? Honest question, my friends, I have no idea what the price tag runs on photographs with prominent figures.

But it does, ladies and gents, seem a stretch to think this event will hold anything but PR profit (possibly) for the speaker, rather than generating needed revenue for the Cancer research in question. We might seek to empower the organizers with a couple of fine pocket calculators as a holiday treat, because I simply fail to see personally where money is going to be raised in any quantity.

Something to ponder certainly, and the world is all about pondering and examining, failing and growing. 'Tis how we learn, after all.

Well, my friends, I imagine I have occupied a sufficient quantity of your time this fine Saturday morning. Do wander by my virtual street corner again another day when the mood strikes you. As always - I shall endeavor in my way to entertain.

In The Immortal Words of The Cat...

"Hey, this is mine. That's mine. All this is mine. I'm claiming all this as mine. Except that bit. I don't want that bit. But all the rest of this is mine." - Red Dwarf

===

Gather round, ladies and gents, gather round. You there in the hat, yes you as well. You with the pants around his ankles, also you, but cover up for Gods' sake. Any and all kind and unkind passersby of my humble street corner, do pause and lend your ears.

There now - are we all settled? Holding off on our morning donut regiment briefly to listen now? Good. Sip your coffee. The sun shall rise anon, and with it perhaps thoughts and schedules. Bear the time with me until then, won't you?

Here in this time and space, you may call me Riff - a wordsmith and plyer of verbiage. Or to trim that for those of you needing perhaps a thesaurus, a writer. My goal and purpose is plain and two-fold : Firstly, to entertain those who choose to pass their way through my street corner each day and secondly, to collect a few coins in the tin cup at my feet, whether it be to encourage my entertaining prattle or to plead with me to cap my electronic pen, for the love of all that is good and holy, and never more darken the corner with my presence. I'm not likely to stop, mind you, but the coins are always appreciated. Do also permit me to assure you that any monies deposited into the can will not find their way swiftly to the nearest purveyor of alcoholic beverages, but will seek their enlightenment in monetary heaven as the facilitation of survival for the proverbial wife and children.

So that's the why of it, then. Yet you still know little of your humble verbal minstrel, do you? Very well then. Introductions are certainly in order, yes? Yes.

I am in this place, called to be called Riff, your modern minstrel. I am not this gent, nor this man, nor this... thing, nor this individual, nor these chaps, nor these folks, nor even this guy here. When not standing on my humble street corner where you find yourself, I play the roles of a slinger of booze, husband, and father according to the dictates of life's call.

But here? Here I write to entertain. Being as we are, in the modern world however, a brief moment of disclaiming before I foray further forward. Do I have my political, social, and/or religious beliefs and failings? Most assuredly. Might they bleed into the writing? It would be hard to avoid it I imagine. Nonetheless - I make specific point that these writings are not specifically written for the point of being political, socially conscious, or religious. These are here to entertain, to make you think, perchance to give you cause to laugh. Or at least to make me laugh. I cannot and will not promise to not offend you, but I also won't go out of my way to condemn or belittle groups or ethnicities or what have you. I reserve the right, however, to point out the stupid, the short-sighted, and the daft. Why? Because it's funny, most days, and there's merit to the 'learning from the mistakes of others' argument as well. My topics may, and likely will, range across a broad area. My language will be clean as a whistle some days, and perhaps strewn with profanity another, and while I will strive for intelligent thought, I am after all, male - and as my dear wife has been known to say, "Women are Crazy. Men are Stupid." Of course, she's also been known to say that I'm the most intelligent man she knows. Parse as you will. :)

In short, while I won't go out of my way to offend, you might all the same be offended. You have that right. Conversely, I also have the right to address it or simply not lose sleep over the matter. It's my street corner after all, and I'm not controlling the sneakers around your feet if you take my meaning.

I think that's said well enough. Do pass by on the morrow as you convey yourself to your ultimate destination, and the morrow after that. Until then, my friends and passersby, I bid you a fine day.

The Humble Tin Cup Sits Below...