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GREAT ONE BY LINDNER

A few Saturdays ago, I noticed a new high-end audio store on my way home from West Portland. I’m not in the market for anything, but being an audio junkie, I’m always interested in what’s being peddled these days.

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A word about this niche industry: Most of the old commercial stereo dealers are gone. Much of it is has been folded into the audio/video big box stores like Costco and Best Buy. The other reality, is that Amazon has done to the commercial home entertainment industry what they’ve done to bookstores and just about everything else. So of the few dedicated audio stores still in business, many have moved upscale. WAAAAAY upscale. They’ve become “boutiques.” And boy-howdy, do they push that elitism.

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I noticed that audio store was open today, so I maneuvered the Javamobile into the parking lot for a look-see. Which is kinda’ like docking the Queen Mary into a slip meant for a dinghy, but I managed.

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[SIDEBAR] Even before I opened the door, this place looked chic. Smoked glass, polished zebrawood everywhere, etc. And admittedly, I probably stuck out like a hobo at the Ritz-Carlton. Chocolate and espresso-stained Levis, denim shirt with a big brown chai tea stain, Birkenstocks... you get the picture. 🧟‍♂️ 

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So I opened the door and walked in, almost as if I didn’t give a shit what people think of my working man’s attire—because I don’t. There are two salesmen, each “working” two well-to-do looking couples. And by working them, I mean WORKING them. The same appeal-to-the-ego techniques that I learned in the car sales business back in the early ‘70s: Make them think whatever they have now is substandard, and that the ONLY way they can impress the neighbors in the castle next door, is to buy X... which they just happen to have on sale today (though in reality has a 200% markup).

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Salesman #3 emerges from a back room and gives me a once-over. I regret that I didn’t stop him long enough to whip out my iPhone and make a video of his reaction when he saw me, but oh well. He started at my Birkenstocks, worked his way up until he reached my eyes, and said “May I help you find something sir?” Pained look on his face, like he just came in from his mother’s funeral. If you’re picturing the “Broker” from Guardians of the Galaxy, you’re not far off.

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I said “No thanks, I just want to browse. I’ve driven past here before, but never when you’re open. So I thought I stop in to see what’s new in audio.”

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“Well, let me know if you have any questions,” and he went back to whatever it was he was doing, glancing over his shoulder for one last look at the abomination sullying his salon. I checked out their wares. Some pretty good stuff, some great stuff, and a LOT of grossly overpriced stuff. Again, intended for the deep-pocketed, insecure type. (P.T. Barnum was right, you know).

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I picked up an MSFL version of Carol King’s “Tapestry” album, and took it up to the spotless checkout counter. Out comes Mr. Broker again. “Ah, Tapestry! A great album. So what kind of turntable do you own?”

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“I have several actually,” and rattled them off to him.

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“Have you considered upgrading to the new Super-Zowie-Ultra-Fantabulous-Polyorgasmic moving coil cartridge? It’s like nothing you’ve ever heard. Velvety smooth.” (Ironic: I remember the sales manager at the Ford dealer telling me that we should tell customers that the new Country Squire station wagon rides “velvety smooth.”)

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“No thanks. I have all the cartridges I need.”

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“Moving coil cartridges?”

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“Two. I have two moving coil cartridges. One of which I’ve had since before you were born, plus five moving magnet cartridges. I’m good.”

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He ran my credit card for the Carol King record, never once bothering to pretend he was anything other than disgusted by my presence, and I left.

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I’ve been in business for just over 25 years. Granted, coffee ain’t an $11,000.00 amplifier, but a sale is a sale. You’re selling yourself, as much as your product. I’ll be amazed if that place lasts a year.

WORLD ACCORDING TO LINDNER

This is a fun update I have to share with you all.

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About 5-6 weeks ago, I posted that my dad had been summoned by the California DMV to renew his driver’s license. At six weeks shy of 100 years old, that was a perfectly reasonable request. He took the written test and ACED it. He didn’t get a single question wrong.

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So they called him back today to take the actual behind-the-wheel driver’s test. And he ACED THAT TOO! The person administering the test told him he was the oldest person he’s ever approved a license to.

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We spoke just a few days ago, and he was certain they were trying to force him into surrendering his license. He wanted me to fly down and pick up his Prius if they did. But it wasn’t meant to be, and I think it’s AWESOME!

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My dad’s twice-weekly jaunts to Trader Joe’s ain’t over yet. 😄

THE WORLD ACCORDING TO LINDNER

F. NADER!  

WORLD ACCORDING TO LINDNER

They opened a new all-natural grocery store a couple of miles from my house, so out of curiosity, I dropped in for a look/see last night. Looks like a nice place, all the usual things you’d expect from that type of establishment. Their produce was (surprisingly) competitively priced, but most of the packaged products were ridiculously expensive.

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In the refrigerator case, they had those new meatless hamburgers that everyone’s raving about. 100% vegetable based, looks like ground beef, supposedly cooks and tastes just like beef. Two smallish patties for $6.69. A store employee, a woman about my age, asked if I needed any help. I told her no thanks, I’m just browsing, and I mentioned that it was my first time in their store. She welcomed me, then told me everything in the store is all-natural, our poultry is free-range, our eggs are this & that, etc., and of course, no GMOs.

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Then I stepped in it. 💩 

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I said “I appreciate that. Myself, I think that non-GMO tag line gets hyped too much.”

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She reared back like Lon Cheney in Phantom of the Opera, when Mary Philbin ripped his mask off. “What? Do you know what GMOs are? They modify plants on a genetic level. It’s unnatural.”

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“Yes, I know what it is, and I’m not arguing FOR it, I’m just saying I think the narrative has been hyped.” It was too late. There was no way I was going to get that toothpaste back in its tube. She went on about how we’re all being used as guinea pigs, how ingesting genetically modified products is unhealthy, and how Monsanto, etc. are getting rich as we consume their products.

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I again reminded her that I’m not arguing FOR genetic modification. But now that she’d brought it up, I asked how are GMOs unhealthy? She gave a little shake of her head, and said “That’s just the thing. We don’t know! All these highly processed foods, plastic packaging, etc. What if we discover 50 or 100 years from now that they cause cancer? We just don’t know! But I can assure you, there’s nothing healthy about GMOs.”

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So in an attempt to defuse the moment, I said “Tell me about these. They look interesting,” and I reached into the refrigerator case and grabbed the two-pack of faux burgers. She said “I don’t eat meat anyway, but those taste exactly like beef. They’re juicy, they cook like beef and they’re chewy like beef. My grandkids love them!”

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I asked how they were made. “I’m not sure, but it’s all plant-based. They’re made from beets, soy flour, even coconut.” So I glanced at the ingredients on the package. She was right. But also leghemoglobin, methylcellulose, modified yeast extracts, wheat gluten, cultured dextrose, modified potato starch extracts. “Modified...” hmmm.

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I pointed that out and asked her if any of that concerned her. I’m not even sure what half of that shit is, let alone whether it’s healthy or not. But I know a highly processed product when I see one. Factor in that these patties come packaged in plastic.

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She said “I’m not a food chemist, but if it’s on our shelves, I’m sure it’s perfectly safe. And it’s non-GMO, which is what’s most important.”

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Nope. No hype there. 😳

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... ... ...

 

EDIT: I’m *NOT* defending Monsanto, nor am I ridiculing veganism or vegetarianism. This is about HYPOCRISY. If you’re going to argue about the “dangers” of GMOs and plastic packaging, it’s the height of hypocrisy to try to sell customers on processed veggie burgers that contain leghemoglobin and methylcellulose—and come packaged in plastic.

WORLD ACCORDING TO LINDNER

This is an amaaaaazing story. This little Arctic vixen made her way from Norway’s Svalberg Islands to northern Canada, a distance of 2,176 miles, in 76 days. She averaged 29 miles per day. On one particular day, she traveled 96 miles!

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Look how tiny she is. About the size of a house cat. So she probably sustained herself on whatever mice, voles and insects she happened upon her way. A larger critter probably wouldn’t have made it, for lack of available calories.

WORLD ACCORDING TO LINDNER

Jeeez... it just dawned on me! It was 25 years ago 👉🏼 TODAY 👈🏼 that a recently disgruntled from the corporate world, middle aged man flew from Portland to Oakland, and drove back the next day in that sexy beast on the left.

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🎊 June 23rd is the Silver Jubilee of Pony Espresso! 🎉

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To those who ask why I never franchised the name or tried to make a bigger splash, I have a standard answer: I didn’t start Pony Espresso to get rich. I did it to become INDEPENDENT. Once you experience the joy of working for yourself, you’ll never work another day in your life.

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Yay, me. 😋  Pony Espresso at 2️⃣5️⃣

PAGING DR. LINDNER....PAGING DR. LINDNER......

This is such a weird goddamn thing, I just had to write it up while it’s still fresh in my mind. Let me preface that I’ve never believed in the supernatural, and I still don’t. But this just happened this morning.

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I got up at Zero-dark thirty, as usual, and had a bowl of grape nuts. I watched some television, harangued Trump on Twitter for awhile, then fell asleep in my recliner, where I had the strangest dream. I dreamed that I walked into an office somewhere. The chairs in the lobby had beige brocade upholstery. An old woman stood up and started to walk out, when I noticed the back of her dress was soaked. Then I noticed the chair was damp. She noticed that I noticed, and made her way to the door in embarrassment. So she’d obviously had an incontinence episode. It happens.

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I barely remembered the dream when I woke up. That was around 6:45. I then had a minor medical episode of my own just after 7:00. Nothing serious, but I decided to phone the neighborhood clinic to see if they could squeeze me in sometime today. As it turned out, they had an opening at 10:00 am. I know everyone in this clinic, the doctors as well, because I used to serve them on my morning route, but gave up serving that part of town around three years ago.

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So I showed up at 9:55 and walked up to the desk to check myself in. In the lobby, there are maybe 20 chairs of various colors, all upholstered in a brocade/hopsacking type of fabric. On one of them, a beige one, someone had placed a cardboard sign: “Please do not sit here” It was in that instant that I remembered my dream, and it gave me goosebumps. I asked the lady at the desk “What’s wrong with that chair?” She replied “It needs to be cleaned.” I then asked “So someone had an accident there?” She nodded.

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Same type of chair coverings as were in my dream, same color, same scenario, the dream and the incident were separated by a matter of hours. I was already sufficiently creeped out when the next thing happened.

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They drew some blood, checked my vitals, everything seems kosher with me. So I’m okay. As I said, I know most everyone who works there, but haven’t seen them in nearly three years. So as I’m leaving, two of the nurses stopped to chat with me. We hugged, got caught up, and one of them said “It’s so weird that you came in today, of all days. We just this morning were talking about you, wondering how you were doing. Then you showed up unscheduled.”

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As I said... I’m not a believer in the woowoowoo. But this DEFINITELY approaches woowoowoo territory. Paging Dr. Serling.

WORLD ACCORDING TO LINDNER

I’ve been on a wild tear lately, tossing out crap that I cant fix, and (trying to) fix the things that I can. Do you know what a pachinko machine is? Think of it as if a slot machine and a pinball machine hooked up and had a kid. They’d name it pachinko. I bought this one back in 1975. Once Lisa was old enough to play with it, she sort of acquired it. After she moved out, it got relegated to the closet of no return where it’s been in hibernation ever since, collecting a thick layer of dust.

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Wikipedia has an interesting pague about pachinko machines. Even though it’s technically illegal to gamble actual cash with them, folks still do by manipulating the system. The pachinko parlors in Japan generate more gambling revenue than Macau, Singapore and Las Vegas COMBINED. Dang!

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Well, I decided to drag it out a few days ago to see if it still works. It didn’t, but I couldn’t understand why it wouldn’t, so I took it apart. Even though it looks intimidating, it really isn’t. It works entirely on the force of gravity. Little ball bearings hitting this, triggering that, etc. The best way to understand how something works, is to disassemble it. If you can reassemble it to working status, it was meant to be.*

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It turns out, a small plastic piece about half the size of a pencil had gotten brittle and cracked. That shut down the first function of this gizmo, which cascaded up the chain to shut down everything else. If I hold my finger at just the right spot, that part functions perfectly, resulting in the whole thing chiming like Big Ben and lighting up like a Christmas tree. Good luck finding a weird little plastic thing-a-ma-bob last made in the early ‘70s, right?

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Wrong! It turns out there’s a whole geeky subculture of pachinko machine aficionados out there. I Googled “plastic parts for 1974 Nishijin pachinko machine,” and a dozen sites popped up. So I sent out a picture of the part I’m looking for, and got a hit right away. “Sure thing Mr. Lindner, we have that. You have a 1974 Nishijin Sophia, she’s a classic. We’ll send it out on Tuesday, for $10.00.” Turns out they 3D print this stuff by the bushel.

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Well alrighty then. Now that I’m a Nishijin Sophia Ninja, once that part arrives, I’ll have it installed in five minutes, then I’ll... I’ll... I’ll probably put it back in the closet of no return for another 45 years.  🤷🏻‍♂️  Owning a 45 year old worthless gizmo that doesn’t work makes no sense. But owning a 45 year old worthless gizmo that DOES work, and you MADE it work, well that’s another thing altogether. That’s what a packrat’s life is all about.

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*Remember that famous quote by Khalil Gibran? “If you love someone, let them go, for if they return, they were always yours. If they don’t, they never were.” ~ Kinda’ like that. 😎

LOVE LINDNER!

I always wear these medical scrubs during warm weather. You can’t beat ‘em. So I’m at Trader Joe’s a few minutes ago and I stopped to sample something at the demo table. The woman says “Are you on break?”

 

I said “I’m sorry?”

 

“Are you on break from the hospital?”

 

“Oh. No, I’m not a doctor. I just dabble in gynecological work for a hobby.”

 

The woman cracked up, but she was utterly drowned out by the two little old ladies I didn’t even know were standing behind me.

 

I said “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. It was inappropriate here”

 

The woman at the table said “No, it’s all good. We’re not like that around here.”

 

One more reason to patronize TJ’s... they aren’t uptight assholes. 😛

 

LINDNERS WORLD

I’ve been a veggie-cookin’-Dr. Frankenstein today. I took these beautiful asparagus spears, some baby garlic greens, tossed them with a couple of teaspoons of olive oil, and maybe 1/3rd of that bottle of Jamaican Pickapeppa and roasted them. Damn it’s good! You should try it. (You’ll probably still pee funny though 😫).

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Elsewhere, I made some Bavarian potato dumplings, I’m just starting on a pot of pasta e fagiole, and a fresh batch of homemade sauerkraut. But I’ve added a little kick to the kraut’s ass in the form of some Calabrese peppers. German cuisine is too bland anyway, said nobody ever, but maybe me.

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Later tonight, I’m gonna whip up a crazy twist on the classic Martini that I’ve been pondering. It’s strictly experimental, you understand. That is to say, if it turns out okay, I’ll post it. If not, you’ll never know about it, and the Secretary will disavow any knowledge of my actions. Boom.  📼💥