1453 Pieces of Bliss

Sometimes words contain their own poetry, or their own irony. There’s a business person who has the last name Bliss. As my last name is Farmer, I can certainly empathize with this person. From playground to water fountain, your name is bound to be bandied about in lame attempts at humor.
Jerry Farmer, outstanding in his field.
So when you have problems with folks wrongly parking in your lot it’s tough to find a solution. The sign, “Bliss Only, Violators will be Prosecuted,” just sounds odd. Prosecution for anything is not my idea of bliss.
A state office out in Tumwater has a similar problem. They have a warehouse with a section where I guess you pick up what you ordered. Their sign says, “Fulfillment, Door 232.” Wow. And most people spend their whole lives looking for fulfillment. Who would have thought it was in a warehouse.
Words are also good when they make up cool sayings. Like this one on the unfulfilling joys of parenting. “Parenting is an endless exercise in replacing failed previous strategies.”
In a totally unrelated off-the-rails digression, I was at a restaurant the other day and ordered a spinach dish. And I did so just so I could say I had a Spanish Spinach Enchilada.
With the proliferation of digital, lots of specialty networks are emerging. Home channels, nature channels, the sports network, the Oprah Network. So what if a bunch of zany DJs worked on the Funeral Home Network? Would you call them the Mourning Crew? That one’s not gonna be as funny as a spoken joke.
And finally, I find myself getting ever clumsier with age. But maybe there’s hope. My older friends tell me small motor skills are the first to go. Fortunately, I drive a mid-size sedan...
Talk about bliss...
America, ya gotta love it.