Everybody's After Me, I Don't Hear A Word They're Sayin'

Look out now, here comes a blog!

Don’t get too close. Catch it with both hands or you might drop it. Get ready, here it comes. It’s coming. It’s almost here. Get ready.

Man! I’m becoming paranoid. Everywhere I turn it seems like people are after me. People want to friend me on Face book and I don’t even know who they are. I’ve read that’s how some scammers steal your identity. That might not be totally bad if I could steal someone else’s identity in return - you know, somebody cool. But I don’t know anybody cooler than me except maybe that new Pope and I don’t really feel like blessing people all the time; mostly, I’d just like to kick folks in the butt; like one of my sainted Italian ancestors might say to some bozo, “Whatsa matta’ you?”

One of my senators wanted me to fill out a survey she mailed me. I didn’t open it, I just round-filed it. I don’t generally take surveys, by mail, by telephone, in person or any other way. I like to keep my opinions to myself and use them in my blog. Besides, how often do those surveyors offer to pay you?

AARP is after me to renew my membership, to donate money to its charitable foundation and to buy car insurance and life insurance. A couple of outfits want to interest me in buying a cremation package. How do they even know I want to be cremated? Kathleen, you been talking to those people? A couple other outfits want to give me free audiology tests to see if I might need a hearing aid. What? I don’t think I need a hearing aid ‘cause I already have selective hearing.

Car dealers keep sending me letters and cards saying they’d like to buy my truck. They’d give me top dollar they say. Haw! Their idea of top dollar and my idea of top dollar are several Ben Franklins apart. I’ve played that game before. Besides, how can I believe those people need my truck when they already have so many clogging their lots?

Real estate people keep after me too. They want to know if I’d like them to tell me how much my properties are worth. NO. My condo in Bellingham is worth nothing, NADA, ZILCH. I want to give it back to the bank but they won’t take it. And like all the other banks, the one holding my mortgage wants me to believe it’s my friend. As for my house here in Lacey it could be worth a million dollars (it isn’t) but it wouldn’t matter because if I sold it I’d have to relocate. I have tried to eradicate the word “move” from my vocabulary because it’s a word I have come to totally loathe.

The only person seemingly not after me is a good looking babe. Someone, supposedly a good looking babe (if I believe her picture), wants me to friend her on Face book, but like I said, I’m pretty sure that’s a scam to steal my identity. I’m not stupid you know. Good looking babes don’t just come after you unless you have a pile of money or you are a rock star - or both (think Mick Jagger). Maybe I should have gotten a bigger, meaner dog than Sam although he is a pretty good little chick magnet. Wonder if I should slow down more when I’m out walking him?