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muckefuckThis was going to be a pointless digression in another post, instead it's a pointless post all its own. Blame ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
gopower. He's the one who tipped me off to yesterday's front-page Tempo feature in the Chicago Tribune, on the "real" interpretations of kanji tattoos. According to him, the article is online, but without the illustrations which makes it about as useful as a dance review in Braille.
I peeked at it at a Wally World and immediately spotted what I were pretty sure were two mistakes. Now I felt an onus:gopower--and whoever else thought of me when they saw that page--relied on me to critique the article and show them where the authors were wrong! wrong! wrong! How could I disappoint them? Too honest to steal, I would have to overcome my longstanding animus and buy a paper.
Not there, of course, with the retarded checkout that seems standard for city drugstores. I only went in to withdraw money without a fee.monshu had an honesty box in his building, that would do me. Only when I got to the elevator did I notice something not quite right about my paper: The cover photo did not match what was on the front of the box.
The bastards sold me yesterday's paper!
A woman heard me kvetching and said I should tattle to the doorman. I put in another 50 cents and found that all the current papers were crammed into the window whereas all those lying flat were from the previous day. I took the whole stack and dumped it on the doorman's desk, from which I have little doubt it went directly into the trash.
My sense of justice still offended, I took my current paper up to the love nest and usedmonshu's phone to call the Trib's customer service. First, a hostile phone menu. Then a woman who took my address so she could send me "coupons to reimburse you for the 50 cents" and assured me she wouldn't put me on their mailing list. (If you live here, you already know what a futile, quixotic gesture it was to even ask.)
Next time I want a goddamn Tribune in order to read one lousy article, I'll knock on Bruce's door and ask, "Are you done with today's Tempo section?" (Not on a Tuesday, though. He might mistake me for one of his mysterious biweekly visitors.)
Never fear, though, the much-awaited critique is forthcoming!
gopower. He's the one who tipped me off to yesterday's front-page Tempo feature in the Chicago Tribune, on the "real" interpretations of kanji tattoos. According to him, the article is online, but without the illustrations which makes it about as useful as a dance review in Braille.I peeked at it at a Wally World and immediately spotted what I were pretty sure were two mistakes. Now I felt an onus:
gopower--and whoever else thought of me when they saw that page--relied on me to critique the article and show them where the authors were wrong! wrong! wrong! How could I disappoint them? Too honest to steal, I would have to overcome my longstanding animus and buy a paper.Not there, of course, with the retarded checkout that seems standard for city drugstores. I only went in to withdraw money without a fee.
monshu had an honesty box in his building, that would do me. Only when I got to the elevator did I notice something not quite right about my paper: The cover photo did not match what was on the front of the box.The bastards sold me yesterday's paper!
A woman heard me kvetching and said I should tattle to the doorman. I put in another 50 cents and found that all the current papers were crammed into the window whereas all those lying flat were from the previous day. I took the whole stack and dumped it on the doorman's desk, from which I have little doubt it went directly into the trash.
My sense of justice still offended, I took my current paper up to the love nest and used
monshu's phone to call the Trib's customer service. First, a hostile phone menu. Then a woman who took my address so she could send me "coupons to reimburse you for the 50 cents" and assured me she wouldn't put me on their mailing list. (If you live here, you already know what a futile, quixotic gesture it was to even ask.)Next time I want a goddamn Tribune in order to read one lousy article, I'll knock on Bruce's door and ask, "Are you done with today's Tempo section?" (Not on a Tuesday, though. He might mistake me for one of his mysterious biweekly visitors.)
Never fear, though, the much-awaited critique is forthcoming!