There’s a Sucker Born Every Minute of the Day!

A couple updates from prior diatribes are noteworthy.

Firstly, last week’s entry about the broken cup holder in the Cooper, damaged as a result of the mechanic’s smashing into it with the front seat while the car was being state-inspected, has yet to be resolved.

“I don’t trust the glue,” the technician said when I stopped by on August 4th, a few days after the fact. He had told me previously, the epoxy adhesive might repair it. “I’m afraid the pin may break and you’ll have coffee spilt all over the place.”

The reason the vehicle inspector had moved the passenger’s seat forward to begin with was due to his dropping another customer’s set of keys on the floor behind it, inadvertently destroying the swinging cup holder that was in the way.

Try to envision that happening in the photo above with a bucket seat, barrelling forward and hitting the cup holder straight on. It’s made of plastic. The hinge pin would shear in a flash.

The auto repairman, who’s also the owner of the one-man shop, said he ordered a replacement for me, which should arrive in a few days. “Do you know how much that cup holder cost?” he said.

I told him about the one from Amazon in the previous illustration for $76.79, and said I felt bad for him. At least he was honest about it.

“It is what it is,” he said. “It was my fault. Stuff happens (to put it nicely).” The proprietor told me he’d call when the holder came in.

Another week has passed and no phone call, prompting me to pay him a visit on my way out yesterday. “What’s the deal?” I said.

“That’s what I’m wondering. Let me give them a call.” After about five minutes, the mechanic came out of his office and said he had forgotten to give the supplier his tax ID number, which held up the shipment. “It should be here on Monday. I’ll give you a call when it comes in.”

That satisfied me for now. We’ll see come the beginning of next week.

Secondly, on a recent post from a month ago, regarding my entering the latest Publisher’s Clearing House Super Sweepstakes, I had posed the question:

I wonder how many more times Publishers’ Clearinghouse will be sending out another form on which to paste stamps and mail back to them without ordering anything, before the sweepstakes end? Probably until I order something.

On the following week, another notice arrived, stating I should go to their Web site and register an additionally assigned Super Prize Number, that will increase my chances of winning. In doing so, I gave them my e-mail address. Big mistake!

Afterwards all kinds of daily junk mail with offers to buy sundry paraphernalia, publications and more ways to win some cash landed in my inbox, filling it continually with more trash until I unsubscribed to their barrage. It actually worked, I’m happy to say.

Two days ago, I received an official-looking correspondence from Publisher’s Clearing House, alerting me by letter to take action on a forthcoming envelope that’s going to arrive in the next couple of days, from which I need to send in still another validation form to win their Super Prize Sweepstakes.

“Don’t be one of those who have ignored this packet and whose invalidated number was the winner, only to have the grand prize awarded to an alternate who sent back their validation form,” the notice read.

So today, I received that package. This time I looked through all the brochures and leaflets, examining every one before throwing them out, to find a lonely sticker that needed to be placed on the return validation form, as well as another sticker with my new Super Prize Number printed on it.

By golly, that makes three numbers I’ve now validated. I even bought something this time: a griddle with an 18″-long, by 10½”-wide, non-stick surface for frying up bacon, eggs, pancakes and whatever else. The item comes with a free spatula too. Oh boy, I can’t wait to receive that! I’ve been using a small skillet for years.

Maybe now they’ll leave me alone, but I doubt it. Wonder if my odds have decreased any? Most likely not, because all who entered are probably dumb like me and sent in all those additional validation numbers.

Worse yet, according to the official rules, the Super Prize drawing won’t be until 28 February 2018. How many more packets will be sent by these hucksters to rope me into validating additional numbers to win, and possibly buy some more items? Only time will tell.

As mentioned in comments attached to the previous tirade, Rie Waits and I finished our latest outstanding duet: a humorous, corny, early country-music ditty, originally sung by Tennessee Ernie Ford and Kay Starr, called, “You’re My Sugar.” I hope you enjoy it.

Thanks for listening and stopping by; and as always, for your continued support.

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About Mike Slickster

As an early retiree with an honorary doctorate degree from the proverbial "School of Hard Knocks," this upcoming author with a lot of free time on his hands utilizes his expansive repertoire for humorous yet tragic, wildly creative writing that contains years of imaginative fantasy, pure nonsense, classic slapstick, extreme happiness and searing heartbreak; gathered by a wealth of personal experiences throughout his thrilling—sometimes mundane or unusually horrid—free-spirited, rock-'n'-roller-coaster ride around our beloved Planet Earth. Mike Slickster's illustrious quest continues, living now in Act Three of his present incarnation, quite a bit on the cutting edge of profundity and philosophical merriment as seen through his colorful characters, most notably evident in the amusing Thirty Days Across the Big Pond series, all of which can be found at Lulu.com.
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One Response to There’s a Sucker Born Every Minute of the Day!

  1. Today, Monday, the inspection mechanic called to say the cup holder was delivered to his shop, but it looks entirely different than mine. I went over to see him, and it won’t work without having to drill holes in the plastic post where the existing one mounts, and install long screws through it to fasten the new cup-holder bracket. Don’t want to do that, so I told him to return it. I’ll order the one myself that’s on Amazon and bring him the bill. He agreed to that. Nothing’s easy anymore.

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