attempted not known

Thing three: we finally did get the Obama coins, ugh. (e:zobar,47301) They were addressed to 40 Hartford St, 14221, which I am told does not exist, so they sent it to us instead. I brought the package back to the post office and explained to the woman at the counter what happened. She put it in a stack and sent it back to 14221. As I was walking back home it occurred to me that we may be headed for a problem.



Sure enough, two days later we got the same package again. This time it said ANK, which is short for 'Attempted Not Known,' which itself is short for 'If this gets to its intended destination you owe the entire post office a beer.' (e:dragonlady7) said she'd try sending them back this time. I said the suspense was killing me and if we get them again I'm keeping those hokey-ass coins. [It's inexplicable why I want them.] So she went to the post office and told them the package just wasn't going to get through to Mary Sheehan, and they should probably just return to sender. The post officer told her that since they weren't the stated destination they weren't allowed to make that decision, and the only thing they could do is send it back to 14221. You can see where this is going.



But no, she blacked out the address, put a couple hundred stickers all over it, and finally got rid of it once and for all.

- Z

---

Deep thought: Transit Road is a perfectly straight line, thirty miles long. God will judge us by our works, and that's going to be a tough one to explain.

Google Image Search tells me this is a photograph of a 1981 Zenith television. Not so much 'steampunk' as 'we may as well have poured this one in concrete, cause it's not going anywhere.

I'm starting a new category called 'education,' where we can get ourselves smart'd -- together.

My great-aunt used to live in this house. She was the only person I knew with an antenna rotor. On top of her big oak television* she had a small plastic box with a knob on it that was labeled with a compass. She had neatly stuck labels on it pointing to where all of the broadcast towers were, so that she didn't have to fiddle with it when she changed channels. Adjusting a TV antenna was always such a black art I figure she must have just marked them all out trial-and-error-like.

Twenty years later people are getting fed up with the cable company and the DTV changeover has renewed interest in terrestrial broadcasts. But the whole concept of antennas has left the vernacular. Now that we're living in the age of Total Information Awareness you can just type in your address and get a cute little map telling you where to point your antenna.



But it only tells you compass heading and distance. Inexplicably, this is nowhere near enough to satisfy my craving for information. Why does it say Channel 4 is 25 miles away when their studios are right down the street? So I asked the FCC. Apparently I'm a total idiot because it turns out that they don't broadcast directly from the studios. All those antennas and satellite dishes, it turns out, are decorative.

Channels 2, 4, and 7 broadcast from various locations in and around Colden, whereas channels 29 and 17 broadcast from Grand Island. And almost every Canadian station that I've ever heard of broadcasts from the CN Tower.

The upshot is, because I am easily amused and I enjoy putting things in order, here's a map of every broadcast tower within 60mi of Buffalo. Unless you're going to go crawling around on the roof I wouldn't expect to get anything more than 30-45mi away but at least you'll know you're pointing in the right direction.

And the weirdest part about it is, I don't even watch TV. We got no cable, no antenna, the DVD player is disconnected, and the digital converter is still in the unopened box. I guess I just like mapping things.

- Z

_______________

• They don't make electronics out of oak anymore. I want an oak microwave.

The cosmos has been trying to tell me all week that I am out of favor. I did not get the message until today. I am not a superstitious person but when the cosmos is trying to tell you something, the message will get through and it behooves you to pick up on it sooner rather than later. There's not much more to say about that.

Yesterday (e:dragonlady7) ran an errand for me to Riverside Anybody here from Riverside? Riverside is my dad's ancestral homeland, so I feel that I can say this freely. Riverside kind of freeks me out. [That is not why she ran the errand for me.] The thing about Riverside is, there's only like four roads that go in or out And I didn't really think about this until yesterday, but almost every one of them is an underpass. And sometimes, like yesterday, underpasses get flooded. And when one underpass is flooded the others probably are too. So it turns out that you can have this pretty basic situation that ends up cutting off Riverside from the rest of the world.

OK, so I have this weird habit of thinking about weird things as I'm drifting off to sleep, and this whole situation with Riverside totally bound to my sleep receptor. Only instead of just screwing up public transportation, it's a transapocalyptic world and Riverside is the last outpost of civilization. It's somewhat difficult to fully articulate my vision, but suffice it to say, it's pretty fucked up.

I leave you with this unrelated thought. In 1945, Navy Island which is just off the northwest side of Grand Island was proposed for the location of the United Nations. Its location was symbolic or something but mostly they just really liked the view But instead they moved to some boring-ass building on 47th St, pssht.

- Z

Today was a gorgeous day if you're the sort of person who doesn't notice when water is pouring out of the sky, so I decided to walk to the bank instead of driving [I have problems with driving less than about a mile and a half]. I like walking, because you see things you wouldn't normally notice if you were whizzing by in your car (e:zobar,45219) like, for instance, weirdest thing that anyone has ever seen sticking out of a melting snowbank: a ceiling fan.

- Z

and you can have it for free.

I think there should be a game show, where they ask you your own "Forgot Password" security questions, and if you get it right on the first try, you win cash money. The host would have a laptop and as much personality as your bank's website.

Voiceover: Now it's time to play...
Audience: I! FORGOT! MY! PASSWORD!!
Voiceover: with your host, John Hodgman or Ben Stein!
John Hodgman/Ben Stein: Dear Customer, your account remains past due in the amount of $56.72. Would you like to pay your balance online? (Y/n)
(e:zobar): I'm going to go with Y, John and/or Ben!!
Hodgman/Stein: Login please. (Forgot password?)
(e:zobar): Forgot password, John/Ben!
John-Ben Hodgstein: Where did you meet your spouse?
[background music starts playing]
(e:zobar): Um, I'm not married?
J/B: You may continue to receive notices or letters that describe specific collection actions that we may take on your account.
(e:zobar): No no, I got it I got it. Maybe I substituted 'girlfriend' for 'spouse' ... um, Rochester?
J/B: Incorrect entry. Where did you meet your spouse?
(e:zobar): Hm, I'm pretty sure it was Rochester. Maybe Jersey City?
J/B: Incorrect entry. Where did you meet your spouse?
(e:zobar): Could I get a new question?
J/B: Please enter an answer. Where did you meet your spouse?
(e:zobar): I don't have a spouse! I met my girlfriend in Rochester!! I don't fucking know!!! Dobbs Ferry??
J/B: Your account has been disabled due to an excessive number of incorrect login attempts. The correct answer was 'Schaghticoke.'
(e:zobar): AUUGGGHHHH!!
[Head explodes, cut to commercial]

- Z